All in the Mind
by MrsMCrieff
Summary: Set after season 3 and the Christmas Special Sherlock has to work out who he can trust and why Moriarty showed up in that clip. He needs someone he can trust to help him and he turns to Molly. A Sherlolly adventure.
1. Chapter 1

**So this fic is set around the end of Season 3 and incorporates what happened in the Christmas Special and I really, really hope you guys enjoy it. The idea at the heart of this story has been swilling around in my head for a while and I have to thank Lilsherlockian1975 for her patient encouragement and support in making me keep going with this fic.**

 **One little thing though - I want to make it clear that whilst this fic looks into Mary's motives and back story and questions whether she meant to kill Sherlock when she shot him I am in no way a Mary hater and this fic will not be a Mary hate fic. I just wanted to be clear on that.**

 **Hold on tight because it's a long and bumpy ride but hopefully a lot of fun too!**

 **Chapter 1**

Sherlock had lied to John and the potential repercussions and the guilt were eating him up. It was a sign of how much he respected John that this decision was causing him so much angst. This kind of secret had never given him pause for thought before, including when he had faked his own death.

He let his hand rub over his face as he remembered just how upset and angry John had been about THAT deception. He'd almost broken his nose and he HAD split his lip.

The trouble was there was no other way around it. Sherlock had gone over and over all the possible permutations in his head and it all came down to one answer; John couldn't know, at least not yet.

What is it they say; keep your friends close and your enemies closer. Well that was exactly what he was doing. And it wasn't just for his sake; it was for John's and for John's baby. He had to find a solution to this problem and he would but he needed help. He'd been working this problem round in his own head for too long. He needed some outside perspective on it, which was more than the skull on his mantelpiece could offer.

He thought through all his options knowing they were already painfully limited. Mrs Hudson hadn't even entered into the equation and Lestrade was out as he would feel obliged to arrest her for shooting him.

That just left Mycroft or Molly.

His natural instinct was with Mycroft but when he went to make the call he found himself hesitating. This case involved more than just himself. It involved John and John's feelings, and emotions were an area that neither Mycroft nor himself were particularly experienced in. So that just left Molly.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

It had been a while since he had last seen Molly. He remembered back to when he had woken up in his hospital bed a week after being re-admitted following the showdown with Mary to find that Molly had visited him during the night and fallen asleep.

Her head had been lying on his hand, which she was still holding in hers. He could feel her damp tears drying on his skin.

He'd looked down at her peaceful expression and wondered why he didn't feel repulsed by her overt display of affection. He had no doubts that she hadn't meant to fall asleep and he'd found himself trying to work out how many times she had probably visited him before and why she was choosing to do it whilst he was unlikely to be conscious.

It hadn't been a hard deduction for him to make; even with all the morphine running through his veins dulling both his brain as well as his nervous system. She was visiting him at night because she didn't want to talk to him... but she still cared. She still needed to see that he was alive and recovering. She didn't want to talk to him because she was still angry about him taking drugs and she was no doubt hurt about his "affair" with Janine.

He may no longer use her feelings for him as a manipulation tool but that didn't mean they had diminished or that he was any less aware of them.

Molly Hooper loved him. He had no idea why she did, he certainly didn't deserve it. She was a far better person than he would ever be. When he had realised that she was engaged, he had hoped she had found someone who would love her as she deserved to be loved, treat her as she deserved to be treated but it had quickly become apparent that Tom was an idiot and Molly would never have been able to marry an idiot. _I wouldn't have let her_ he thought to himself...and then frowned. Would he really have intervened to that extent in Molly's life? The answer came quickly and emphatically. Yes, yes he would have. He cared too much for her to see her unhappy in love.

He thought back again to that night in the hospital, recalling how she had shifted in her sleep; licking her lips and rubbing her cheek against his hand before sighing happily. He had found himself holding his breath, not wanting to wake her. He hadn't wanted to lose this contact with her. Instead he'd found himself lifting his other hand and reaching over, needing to see if her hair felt as soft as it looked. But before he'd been able to touch it she had opened her eyes, blinking once or twice before focusing on his face.

When she had seen that he was awake she had sat bolt upright in her chair, her hand going to her mouth to check she hadn't done anything as embarrassing as dribbling on him.

He had wanted to say something to her but he hadn't been quite sure what but before he could formulate anything she had glanced at her watch and pushed to her feet. 'I..err..I'm glad you're doing OK, Sherlock. I should go though, my shift starts soon. I...well, goodbye.'

She had been out of the door and gone even as her name had fallen from his lips and his hand had reached for her.

It hadn't been a conscious decision on his half not to see her after that. It had been all but taken out of his hands. A couple of days later and he was well enough to be released albeit under supervision and even though his preference would have been Baker St with John, his brother and parents had decided differently. So instead he had been forced to go to his parent's cottage where his mother could fuss over him to her heart's content.

It had been there that he had really thought through the problem of Mary Watson.

He had been forced to expose her to John; not that he'd ever felt encouraged to keep it from him. She was dangerous and whilst she hadn't shot to kill outright she also hadn't shot to not kill him.

He'd told John, in her presence, that she had definitely not meant to kill him but at best she'd not cared either way, it had been barely fifty/fifty, not even a fighting chance at survival. It was only his own reactions based on his conversations with Molly and Mycroft in his mind palace that had saved his life...not Mary Morstan.

He needed to keep her on-side, to keep her close. Was Mary his enemy? She certainly hadn't shown herself to be his friend. Friends don't shoot each other, even Sherlock knew that and his social and interpersonal skills were terrible.

So he'd sat in an old chair, in his parent's conservatory, with a rug over his legs to keep him warm and he'd thought and thought and worried. There was something there...something he was missing but he couldn't quite put his finger on what it was. She was a mass of contradictions and he was struggling to know what was real and what was a lie.

He'd also watched John, on his regular visits. He had often had a cheerful smile on his face but Sherlock knew it was a mask; he could see the sad, scared soul beneath. He had been genuinely happy with Mary and completely and utterly in love. She was carrying his child, his first born and the separation from her was slowly sucking his joy for life right out of him; it made Sherlock sad to see it.

So he'd encouraged John to think about reconciling with Mary. He'd lied about her part in his shooting and he'd lied about the things he'd found out about her past, downplaying it, making it less serious. He'd called her an enforcer, a spy but not a cold-bloodied assassin. It was important for Sherlock to keep her 'in the fold' so he could work out what her end goal was. Why she had inserted herself into John's life? And she had. Whilst he was sure she loved John he was also just as sure that their meeting and their relationship was no coincidence. He didn't believe in coincidence. But who was she working for and was she still working for them? She loved John now so did that mean she was on their side now or not?

He felt his face scrunch up as he thought about John and Mary's love for each other. He would never understand other people's obsession with love and sex. It was all so puerile and distracting. How much more could the human race have achieved if it hadn't spent so much time chasing the opposite sex, or even the same sex in some cases? Though even he could see the irony in his argument; the human race would have died out without sex.

The only thing which gave him pause for thought was watching his own parents and their innate, all-consuming love for each other.

His mother had willingly given up a potentially brilliant career in order to settle down and raise a family with a quite ordinary man, and he in his turn had been devoted to her.

Both Mycroft and himself had been loved but they had also felt very much on the outside of this love affair and maybe being on the outside and looking in was what had made the two brothers so reluctant to be consumed by love themselves. They didn't want to lose themselves to its force. But he had to admit that their companionship was something he had missed. They had each other; for conversation, for company and no doubt for sex.

Since he had returned from his mission, rooting out Moriary's web he had been unable to fully resume his companionship with John because of Mary. She was always between them now. At first it hadn't seemed too bad because he liked her; she was good for John and she seemed to understand their friendship and need for each other. But now...his trust in her was gone. Wiped out in a split second decision and the pull of a trigger and he didn't know if they could ever fully get their friendship back.

John had proved reluctant at first but it hadn't taken long for the vision of returning to that happy place in time to work its magic and change John's mind. So Mary had been invited for Christmas Day. His mother had been more than happy to play match maker for the untwined lovers though Sherlock knew she would never have had Mary under her roof if she had known it was she who had shot her youngest son.

He had also spent his recovery time plotting against Charles Magnussen. Again Mary was the lynch pin to this and as long as Magnussen had evidence of her past he could exert undue influence over John and likewise himself. His plans though, had only worked in part.

John had reconciled with Mary and Sherlock knew that Mary believed he and John had forgiven her. She was exactly where he needed her to be.

The ploy with Magnussen, however, was a complete bust. He always missed something and this time it was humiliating and put them in a hugely dangerous position. Magnussen's knowledge was all in his head; there never was and never had been a vault.

The outcome had been another bullet; this time fatal but this time fired by Sherlock.

The risk had paid off eventually but not without serious repercussions and consequences for himself. The next week was to be a living nightmare.

 **So I'm aware that it's a lot of back ground and scene setting but first chapter in...what do you think?**


	2. Chapter 2

**This chapter is about Sherlock and starts to give a picture about his past and believe me in this fic he does have a past and an important one. You won't get all the details here but you will eventually. I just wanted to mention it because you might find it odd and confusing. We're going a bit out of canon though in some ways you could argue it as being likely in canon. I'm probably making you more confused now so I'll shut up and just let you read :).**

 **Chapter 2**

After shooting Magnussen he expected and could have coped with some form of imprisonment, he had done so before and no doubt would have to again in the future. It came with the territory, it always had. What he couldn't cope with was solitary confinement. There was no reprieve, no distraction nothing but his own terrors and thoughts for company and he had far too many of both.

His past was filled with ghosts; ghosts and traumas that he kept at bay through endless work and if that wasn't available there were other tools he could and did use, much to Mycroft's displeasure.

But in here there was nothing, no windows, no books, no television; nothing. The only sign that time was passing were the thrice daily visits by the guards with food and the lights going on and off signifying the transition between day and night.

His nightmares returned in full force leaving him sweating, sobbing and clutching at his sheets in terror and frustration every night. The first night a curious guard had pulled back the cover of the viewing port in the door to see what the problem was but they hadn't thereafter. He couldn't eat, he could barely bring himself to sleep he just sat rocking, delving deeper and deeper into his mind palace to try to escape the monotony.

He found himself replaying recent events over and over in his mind. Considering all his friends and colleagues and his interactions with them. He recognised how abandoned he had felt on his return re John's absence in his life. Baker St had seemed empty with just himself and the occasional visit from Mrs Hudson. He'd turned to Molly for company but even she had abandoned him; running into the arms of that idiot, Tom. He needed a flat mate and having John return after the rift with Mary had helped Sherlock to keep the nightmares at bay. He slept better just knowing that John was in the flat. It also stopped him from his recent foray into drug use becoming something more permanent.

He regretted how he had hurt John with his fake death but he still couldn't see how he could have managed it any other way. He wished John could stay with him forever but knew he couldn't keep him from moving on, marrying, having a family. And he did want him to have all that. Sherlock was well aware of some of the rumours; the thinly veiled comments about his and John's relationship but it had only ever been platonic; a pure and perfect friendship which never failed to astonish Sherlock. He had never expected to develop such a close bond with another human being. It made him wonder what else he could achieve that he had previously thought was closed off to him.

That brought him onto his own state of enforced celibacy; the comparison with John and Mary, and recently with his parents, forcing it into sharp relief. This train of thought had him thinking about how hard he had tried over the years to be just like Mycroft; to shun relationships, to not care. No matter how hard he tried to not care he always seemed to fail. First in his friendship for John and now in his need for new companionship.

He knew that John thought he didn't care about or need sex but that was probably Sherlock's biggest lie. On the upside it was rare that he found anyone that he was physically attracted to and even rarer that he felt any kind of emotional or intellectual attraction. He could count them on one hand and he'd treated each of them appallingly in the hopes of pushing them away.

He'd been successful with Irene, one night in Karachi had got her out of his system quite effectively. Janine had been a surprise. He had only ever intended for the relationship to be fake, and it had been, but they had got on surprisingly well by the end and even fashioned a friendship of sorts. But the one that had turned out to be the hardest, the one he couldn't seem to bring himself to cut himself off from completely, was Molly.

He had tried in the early days of their acquaintance to be obnoxious, to repel her but bit by bit she had elevated herself from colleague to friend and he acknowledged that she was perilously close to breaching ALL his defences. She was the bride who could be. The best fit he'd ever found for himself; a woman living and working successfully in his self-contained masculine world. And better still she didn't just adore him, she was no doormat. She challenged him, forced him to see himself and his own flaws and called him out when he went too far. He still remembered the sharp slaps of her hand and the look of disappointment on her face as she'd realised the extent of his current drug use. That more than anything Mycroft had ever said or done had him wanting to use less, to control it more.

Thoughts of her and John and Mary whirled around in his head until he thought he might explode. He was on the verge of begging when Mycroft finally paid him a visit. It took all his self-control to sit still and listen impatiently to the offer his brother had come to make.

He had two alternatives. A continuation of this incarceration... or exile; take the "almost certain death" case that Mycroft had got him out of only a week ago. There was no choice. He could not, would not live this life of solitary confinement another day.

The next 24 hours were spent in an endless round of briefings, language refreshers and bringing him up to date with the latest equipment, contact points, code words. It was all too boring and frustratingly familiar. He had hoped that he'd left this life behind but it looked as though he would end his life doing the one job he hated.

His only bright point had been meeting and quickly deducing that one of Mycroft's goons was a drug addict. It was the work of moments to corner him and blackmail him into supplying him with what he needed. His silence in return for drugs. If he was going to leave England, he was going to leave it on a high; a literal high.

He spent his last night contemplating the mission ahead and trying to decide whether he should write any final farewell notes. He already knew he would see John the next day, Mycroft had invited him as a curtesy and a last kindness to Sherlock. He wasn't worried about his parents; they would be Mycroft's problem and everyone else would cope.

The only one whom he gave a second thought to was Molly but what could he say, sorry I should have shagged you but I never did. Professions of love would be too much and anyway she would need to move on with her life and she could do that far better without dreams of what could have been cluttering up her heart and mind. But now he came down to it maybe there were regrets, maybe he should have given her...them... greater consideration.

The next day dawned grey and cold. He dressed; donning his familiar attire, probably for the last time. He put his hand in the pocket of his Belstaff and brought out the small plastic bag that he'd been given surreptitiously the night before. He looked down at the sad collection of pills in his hand as he waited for Mycroft to come and collect him. There was enough here to give him a serious trip, if not the risk of an actual overdose. He looked into the small mirror above the basin in the corner of his room and considered his own reflection. Die now or die later; he shrugged, figuring he had nothing to lose, and picked up the glass of water using it to swallow down the pills.

His only concession, as ever, was writing the list for his brother. It was the only promise he had ever made him and he wasn't going to backtrack on it now. Chances were if Mycroft ever needed to see it it would be because he never woke up at the end of the flight but at least he would know what had killed his younger brother; knowledge always gave Mycroft comfort.

By the time he was stood on the tarmac saying goodbye to John he could feel the effects of the drugs were in full force. He felt light, free, all his cares blowing away with that east wind. It felt as though all his senses were heightened, the world was brighter, colours more intense, But instead of blissful oblivion on the plane he took a phone call from Mycroft telling him that not only did it look like Moriarty was back but his exile and mission had been cancelled.

His mind went into freefall. It was the single-most weirdest trip he had ever had and he had had some mad highs in his time. His fears about Moriarty, his concerns about Mary and her capabilities, his guilt about Molly and all the other women he had slighted all mixed in his mind around a case that suddenly came back to him of a woman in the 1800's who had blown her own brains out only to return from the dead.

By the time he came round he knew two things: Moriarty was definitely dead and his video was some kind of sign or call to arms for his supporters. Something was going to happen he just didn't quite know what.

But first he had to get past his brother, John and Mary. Finally it appeared that John was starting to realise that drugs to Sherlock were a regular occurrence and not a one off. Even in his drug addled state, already starting to come down from his high, he could feel the waves of disapproval, hurt and disappointment washing over him from his best friend. It didn't help his mood, especially with his brother looking at him with that patronising, condescending look trying to make out as though he cared whether Sherlock lived or died. Of course he didn't care; he had just called him back from a suicide mission for God's sake.

Mary was the only one acting normally which meant that she was very abnormal. She should have been, shocked or angry or disappointed but she was none of those things. If anything she was amused by it all.

He drifted in and out of consciousness falling in and out of the parallel world that the drugs and his brain had created for him. Brought back the last time by John shining a light into his eyes assessing his consciousness he pushed him to one side and tried to stand aware that he was shaky, feeling his legs giving way underneath him. He forced himself on using the headrests of the seats for support as he made his way off the plane. They had a case, they had work to do. Why couldn't they just get past the drug thing, he was alive wasn't he, surely that was all that mattered...that and the case.

 **I think that's about enough scene building don't you, we're up to the present day and can get motoring with our story. I hope you're all still with me. Shout out if you are.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Thanks for staying with me whilst we got all the background stuff out of the way, but now I think it's about time to move the story along, dont you?**

 **Chapter 3**

Needless to say they did not forget the drugs and the next couple of weeks were tedious to say the least. John insisted on moving back in temporarily to 'keep an eye' on him. It was like being back in jail all over again with John querying what he was doing and where he was going all the time.

It didn't help that they were getting nowhere with Moriarty's appearance. Mycroft's people had worked out how it had been done but they had no leads on the whole. It was all smoke and mirrors, false personas and fake ID's.

Sherlock knew this was a trigger for something to happen he just didn't know what or when it would take place. He had his homeless network looking out for any changes, following key people but so far there had been nothing.

Finally, with Mary's due date creeping ever closer John moved back home. Whilst it was a relief to not have him constantly checking up on him it was also a final ending of sorts. They both knew that this was probably the last time that John would live there and Sherlock knew he would miss him. It brought his mind back round to Molly.

He had tried his utmost not to give her much thought since his return but it hadn't worked. He certainly hadn't seen her and had no idea whether John had said anything about his almost exile or his recent drug usage. He knew absolutely what Molly's opinion would be on the latter and he had a good idea how she would have felt about him leaving without saying goodbye. Neither would be good. Thing was he didn't just need her help with the Mary situation he found he actually missed her. It had been too long.

So, the day after John moved out Sherlock decided it was finally time to go to Barts and pay her a visit. He knew he had some "fences to mend" and he wanted to ensure the visit went as smoothly as possible and to that end he wasn't averse to using sex to distract her and bring her on side. He paid particular attention to his hair and his clothes, picking out a purple shirt, knowing she had a thing for him in that colour, pairing it with an almost uncomfortably tight suit, giving his curls a 'just out of bed' ruffled look. When he was happy with his overall appearance he shouted a goodbye to Mrs Hudson and set off.

He felt a strange sense of home-coming as he made his way through the corridors of the familiar hospital. The last time he'd been here was as a patient so to be walking through the hallways instead of being pushed in a wheelchair was a pleasant return to normality. As was the welcome sight of Molly leaning over her paperwork in the lab as he entered. He saw her glance up and then do a double take as she recognised him.

He also saw the space where her engagement ring had once sat, and the new shorter hairstyle that she was trying out to give herself a lift. New Year and a new start; it was all so predictably conventional but calming just the same.

She smiled at him briefly before frowning; so she was glad to see him on his feet but still unhappy with him. He knew he needed to build some bridges with her he just wasn't sure exactly how he should go about it.

'Hi Sherlock, it's good to see you up and about again. Back in London then?'

He saw the blush that spread over her cheeks as they both remembered the last time they had seen each other.

'Have you come about anything in particular? A case?'

He watched her shuffling some papers around trying to distract herself from how she was feeling about him and he felt a sudden and inexplicable rush of feelings for her. How had he neglected their friendship, her, for so long? He needed her.

He walked up to her desk and perched on a stool opposite her. 'No, no case. I just realised that I hadn't seen you recently and...and I mean to rectify that.'

Molly looked at him with almost comical surprise. 'Oh...I..are you alright Sherlock?'

He laughed at her shocked expression. 'Yes Molly, I'm fine but I see you are busy right now.' He stood up. The next words out of his mouth surprised even him. 'How about dinner tonight? There's a little Italian around the corner from my flat, Angelo's, we can meet at say seven o'clock?'

He saw her nod her head in a slightly dazed way and knew he was treading precariously close to 'date' territory but he found he didn't care. He wanted, no...he needed to make up to Molly for the last few months of disappointment and neglect. She deserved nothing less from him.

He slapped his hands on his knees and stood up. 'Until later then' and with that he took himself off.

As he walked out into the bitingly, cold January air he stopped, pulling on his black leather gloves and tightening his...no Molly's favourite blue scarf. He decided he needed the walk even if it was icy and wintry. At least he was here, in his own city, London. He wanted to feel connected to the place that he had come so close to leaving forever and at least the oft tread city pavements weren't slippy even as he felt himself faltering with his personal life. He needed to understand what he was doing with Molly and fast. He had until seven o'clock and it suddenly felt pivotal.

All his dreams and thoughts from the last couple of months were rolling around in his head. It had become apparent that if he were to start a relationship with anyone it would be Molly. But did he want to start one? Loneliness should not be the reason. But it was more than that; she hadn't been far from his thoughts for months now. Always there just under the surface of his mind and his emotions. Somehow she had become so much more than just a friend, he trusted her implicitly and she had never failed him.

How many times had he failed her though? It was more than she even realised. She obviously had no idea about him nearly leaving or taking drugs again. She wouldn't have been half so welcoming if she had. Was he right to think about embarking on a relationship without telling her the truth, all of the truth? Not to mention the fact that she may no longer want him. He knew she still had feelings for him but that didn't mean she wanted to act on them.

That reminded him and he fished his phone out of his inside pocket, swearing at the weather as he was forced to remove his glove so he could dial. 'Hello, yes table for two for seven tonight and make it your best. The name? Tell Angelo it's for Holmes, Sherlock Holmes. Thank you.'

He hung up and carried on his way, ignoring the constant barrage of shoppers and ubiquitous sale signs in all the shop windows.

Molly had always been there for him and had given him so much but what had he ever done for her? What part of himself had he ever given to her?

An unfamiliar sense of shame spread across him causing him to halt abruptly in the street, a couple of passersby swearing at him as they almost barreled into him. He ignored them as he concentrated on this new feeling. He couldn't really recall having it before except when Molly had slapped him for drug use. He was Sherlock Holmes; he didn't feel shame or regret. The only other time he had come close was when he thought he had been played by the Woman and had let Mycroft and his country down but that had turned out to be both short lived and false.

Before he knew it he was back in Baker St being berated by Mrs Hudson for letting himself get so cold. 'I don't know what you were thinking, Sherlock, walking about in this weather in your condition.'

She pulled his coat off his shoulders even as she pushed him up the stairs.

'My condition...and what condition would that be?'

'John's only just moved out and I know he was here to keep an eye on you. Plus your mother rang before Christmas and told me you were still convalescing. You almost died from that gunshot wound, Sherlock, and you only made it worse when you left the hospital to go gadding about who knows where. Now you sit down in front of that fire and I'll make you a nice cup of tea. Just this once mind I'm...'

'Yes, yes I know,' he smiled at her affectionately; 'you're not my housekeeper.'

'Well, it would do you good to remember it. Now I might have a few of your favourite biscuits downstairs. Back in a mo.'

Sherlock sat looking into the comforting warmth of the fire and contemplated his own sentimentality. Maybe being so close to death twice in the last couple of months had changed him. People often said that it did, although he conceded it was more than possible that they were idiots. He didn't like to consider his reactions as being ordinary, himself as being ordinary. He wasn't sure he liked it.

Mrs Hudson bustled back in with tea for two and Sherlock rolled his eyes, 'no chores to do today Mrs Hudson?'

'No, nothing urgent. Now what's going on with you and John at the moment. Is everything alright with him and Mary now? I was ever so worried when he moved back in here yet again. He's like a boomerang isn't he...keeps coming back.'

'Surely there's shopping you need to do?'

'No, we've plenty of food in. We still have some leftovers from Christmas if you're hungry, chocolates and things. I expect you're missing him aren't you? You liked him being here again, we both did. Maybe you could invite him and Mary round for dinner, I don't mind cooking?'

'Clothes shopping then, there are plenty of sales on at the moment and God knows your wardrobe could do with updating.'

'Shall we say Wednesday? Do you have anything on that night? No, of course you don't. You've been very quiet since you got back.' She patted his knee. 'I understand dear. It was such a shock you almost being sent away and at Christmas as well. Your poor mother, what would she have done?'

Sherlock put his cup down feeling unreasonably frustrated. 'Mrs Hudson I am not quiet and I do have things that I am doing, I'm out tonight as a matter of fact...with Molly.'

As soon as the words left his mouth he regretted it. This was something Mrs Hudson was not going to let go of.

'Oh that's nice dear. Are you helping her with something at work or carrying out some kind of experiment together?'

For some bizarre reason the fact that Mrs Hudson had assumed it wasn't a date irked him.

'As a matter of fact I'm taking her to dinner, at Angelo's.'

'A stakeout then, I didn't know you had another case on at the moment or is it still connected to that man on the telly? He looked very ordinary...hard to think of him being a big criminal, such a short man as well from the pictures in the paper...'

'No, not a case Mrs Hudson, a date.'

'A date? You...and Molly?' The derision in her voice just wound him up even more.

'Yes, me and Molly. Why is that so hard to believe?'

Even as he said the words he was riding a wave of disbelief himself. How had he ended up being so determined to prove to his landlady that this was the one thing he'd been trying to convince himself it wasn't?

'Well, if you ask me Sherlock...'

'I'm not!'

Mrs Hudson ploughed on regardless. 'It's about time you settled down and Molly's a lovely girl. You could do a lot worse and she seems to understand your ways...you know...'

'No, I don't know. What ways?' He grumbled petulantly.

'We all have our foibles Sherlock. Anyway I must be getting on I can't just sit about chatting all day I have a date of my own to be getting ready for. Mr Constantine from the Greek Taverna down the road is taking me out tonight.'

'Hmm, whatever you do don't agree to either marry him or lend him any money.'

Mrs Hudson stood and smiled down at him indulgently, patting his shoulder. 'OK and don't do anything with Molly that John wouldn't do.'

Sherlock smirked. 'That doesn't leave much out then does it?'

As she left the room he turned back to the fire and sank into the peace and quiet of his mind palace.

 **So, is it a date or is it not a date? Sherlock can't seem to decide so you guys will have to. Hope you're still enjoying it, let me know and I'll be back soon.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Thank you all for your reviews...they mean a lot, each and every one. As for the story I promise that there is more of a plot than just Sherlolly and it will be rearing its head very, very soon. In the meantime let's get on with their date/not date.**

 **Chapter 4**

Molly had been in such a rush since she had finished work but she was quite glad of it because it gave her less room or time to think and she knew if she thought about the night ahead too much she probably wouldn't go ahead with it.

She had no idea why Sherlock had invited her to dinner but she knew one thing and that was that this wasn't a date!

It was probably some elaborate cover story or a stake out. Or she was going to get there and he'd have forgotten or it would be a party with everyone else attending.

It was therefore a slight shock when she arrived and the waiter greeted her profusely, taking her coat and leading her over to a private table near the back where Sherlock was sat waiting for her.

He fluidly rose to his feet as she approached and bent to kiss her cheek before holding out her chair for her to sit down.

He had already ordered a bottle of wine for them both and, as she glanced around at their surroundings, he poured her a glass. She took a sip, acknowledging that he had chosen well and tried to quell the nerves that she was starting to feel. She was way out of her comfort zone with him; this was the exact opposite of what she had been expecting.

The table between them was simply laid out with a lit candle in the centre casting a gentle glow of light across Sherlock's face. He looked so handsome it was almost painful to see; like a twist of a knife in her stomach. He seemed so close and yet so very unattainable.

He smiled as he spoke to her, 'would you like to choose your meal or would you prefer me to, they do a perfect Carbonara?' He picked up the menu but she reached her hand over and stopped him. He looked back at her, frowning.

'Sherlock, what is this?' She waved her hand around indicating themselves and the location.

'It's dinner, Molly. What does it look like?'

He was not making this easy for her but then she reminded herself, he never did.

'I mean, why am I here? What are we doing?'

He sighed and sat back in his chair. 'Honestly? I'm not really sure. I mean I do know I need to make some apologies and try to give you some explanations. As for why here...why not? The food is excellent and I know it seems a bit...unusual for us but...I genuinely wanted to spend some time with you.'

Before Molly could say anything in response Angelo, the owner, came over to welcome them, hugging Sherlock and telling Molly his normal story about how Sherlock had saved him from a triple murder charge.

Molly laughed and exclaimed in all the right places before Angelo took her hand and kissed the back of it; making Molly blush and Sherlock frown.

'Ah you are so much more beautiful that his previous dates. He should hold on tight to you and not let you go.'

'Yes, thank you Angelo, now if you don't mind I think we are ready to order.'

Angelo winked at Molly who giggled a little at Sherlock's obvious disgruntlement but they both gave their food orders before resuming their previous unfinished conversation.

'Firstly Molly, I am sorry for everything that happened over the last few months.' He hesitated over how much to say about his drug use. He wanted to say how sorry he was to her but found he didn't want to have to admit to having taken more recently. Instead he skirted around the subject apologising for disappointing her without mentioning the individual incident.

Molly sat forward and tentatively put her hand over Sherlock's which was lying on the table; wondering if he would pull away from her as he used to. This time he didn't, instead he looked down at the connection but left his hand lying passively under hers.

'Sherlock, you don't owe me any explanations. I just want you to look after yourself. You have an amazing gift; you help so many people and I hated seeing you abuse yourself in that way. But it has to be something you do for yourself; not for me...or even for John. You have to learn to love yourself.'

His eyes narrowed at that last sentence and she wondered, not for the first time, whether he had any concept of love or what it was.

'Well, I felt I owed you an explanation and my second is regarding my relationship with Janine. I take it you read the papers?'

He saw how her face fell and how her eyes refused to meet his own. Of course she had read the papers and of course she had believed them, why would she not!

'My reason for being with Janine was simple. I was investigating Charles Magnussen and she was his PA, as such she was key to getting access to his office. I don't know why I feel the need to tell you this but I want you to know that I never had sex with her.'

Molly pulled her hand away from Sherlock's and he felt the loss of it immediately. He almost wanted to reach out and reclaim it but he couldn't.

'So...you were lying to her? Using her?'

He nodded his head once, hating that look of disgust on her face. Why was Molly the only one who could make him feel this guilty?

He cleared his throat. 'I'm surprised John never made it clear to you.'

Molly looked even more shocked. 'He knew...and he didn't stop you?'

'Well, in fairness to him he only found out the day I proposed and given that that was the same night that I was shot he didn't really have much of a chance to.'

'You proposed?'

This was just going from bad to worse and he couldn't bear how hurt she sounded. This time it was his turn to lean forward in his seat, wanting to make her understand.

'It didn't mean anything Molly. It was for a case. Magnussen was one of the vilest human beings I have ever had the misfortune to come into contact with. He was controlling and manipulative and destroying so many lives. So yes, I did what I had to do to give myself an advantage. If it's any consolation Janine and I are...well still friends...of sorts. She got her revenge with those false stories she sold to the papers.'

Molly pushed back her chair and started to stand up. 'Listen Sherlock. I appreciate you being honest with me I really do but I think I should just go.'

He stood himself feeling suddenly panicked. 'What? Why? Molly...please...stay.'

He caught hold of her arm and pulled her a step closer to him.

She shook her head and tried to pull away. 'There's not really much more to say is there Sherlock? You used yet another person to get what you wanted. You didn't give any thought to her feelings...or mine or anyone's. You never do...ever.'

'Molly, please. I'm not the same person I was then. Please stay.'

As he saw her shaking her head once more he just acted on instinct and leant forward catching her lips with his own.

It was quite an innocent kiss, just a press of his lips to hers but Sherlock was completely unprepared for the rush of hormones and emotions that washed over him in that moment.

It only lasted a couple of seconds before he pulled away but in that short time he knew that something in his life had changed irrevocably. Molly looked as dazed and confused as he felt.

He gestured to her chair and she all but fell into it; her eyes turning quizzically to his even as her hand ghosted over her lips.

The atmosphere felt strange and awkward with neither of them really knowing what to do or say. Fortunately at that moment Angelo returned with their meals bringing with him an air of warmth and normality.

Sherlock smiled at Molly and thanked Angelo and the two of them ate their meals in relative silence.

As they finished Molly glanced up and caught Sherlock's eye, smiling nervously. 'There's more isn't there?'

He nodded his head almost sadly and Molly wondered what the next part of this roller coaster evening would bring. 'Why don't we go back to Baker St?' He asked simply. 'I can make you a coffee.'

She raised an eyebrow. 'Oh so you do actually know how to make a cup. I thought you just relied on everyone else making it for you.' He just grinned in return as he threw a few notes on the table to cover the cost of the meal.

As they walked up to his street Molly couldn't quell the feeling of butterflies in her stomach. Neither of them had mentioned the kiss and whilst she didn't think he was purposefully manipulating her she didn't get the impression it was something he had meant to do.

In the end as they got to his doorway she caught him by the arm, turning him towards her. 'Listen Sherlock, about umm...that kiss earlier. I'll understand if it was a mistake. We could just put it down to a failed experiment if you like. I...I don't want it to affect our friendship.'

He brought his gloved hand up to brush a strand of hair from her face, 'and what if it wasn't a failure? Maybe it's an experiment we need to repeat to check the results.'

He almost laughed at the way her jaw dropped but instead he bent his head and kissed her for a second time.

This time it was less innocent. He used his hands to hold her face and tilt her head so he could deepen the kiss, feeling her mouth open to his as her hands gripped his hips for balance. He found his whole world, the one that was normally spinning at a hundred miles an hour stilling down to one point, one focus; Molly Hooper.'

It felt as though his entire life had been leading up to this moment, this one conclusion. Every decision he had ever made, every action he had even taken had led him to being here in this street in this moment with this woman and he knew no matter how painful some of it had been he wouldn't change any of it.

Molly staggered slightly and he felt her hands tighten their grip on him pulling him closer to her, but it wasn't close enough. He wanted to lose himself in her in a way that he never had with another human being before,

Eventually, almost against their will they broke apart, both of them breathing heavily and he took her hand and led her into the house.

 **So, I'm mixing it up a bit, for me, and getting Sherlolly together quite early in the story but don't worry as I said earlier the plot will thicken soon enough. Thing now is to shag or not to shag that is the question. What do you think?**


	5. Chapter 5

**So, a bit of a shocking day here in the UK I don't want to get political but it looks like we're heading into a huge period of change...so, maybe I'll just bury my head in the sand and keep Sherlollying ;).**

 **Chapter 5**

Molly followed Sherlock up the stairs to his flat as her mind whirled in disbelief. This evening was not turning out as expected. He had kissed her. HE had kissed HER. It didn't seem possible and yet it had just happened. All Molly's senses were on high alert, it was entirely possible, especially given what he had just told her about Janine, that he was manipulating her for some reason.

And yet...and yet, it had felt so good, so perfectly right. She had been kissed before, many times. But in Sherlock's arms it was as though it had been for the first time. She had given up hope of it ever happening; resigned herself to a life of dying an old maid with cats because of her unrequited love for this infuriating man. Could it possibly be that there was a chance for them?

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

Sherlock's mind was also in turmoil. The evening seemed to be spiraling out of his control...and he needed control. He had to get a grip of his emotions before he went too far with Molly. He still wasn't sure that this was something he should be pursuing even if every cell in his body seemed to be crying out for her. His mind was what was important, the work, this case. He needed to keep his focus on the case.

It took an immense effort but gradually he felt his breathing coming back under control and decided to carry on with his original purpose for this evening. He needed to get Molly on side with regards to his concerns about Mary.

As they entered the flat he hung up his coat gesturing for Molly to do the same and then set about making coffee whilst she wandered around his front room. He was acutely conscious of where she was in relation to himself, of all the items she let her fingers graze over.

As he finished placing cups and milk and sugar onto the small tray he hesitated about where they should sit. His body said the settee so instead he headed for his chair setting the tray down on the small antique coffee table. Molly moved over with him and sat in John's chair as he put sugar and cream in her cup before handing it over.

She seemed nervous, understandable. He'd just kissed her, she was bound to be wondering what his motives were. He wondered what he would say if she asked him. Better that he lead the conversation then.

He cleared his throat. 'Mary... I need to talk to you about Mary.'

This had her frowning, 'John's Mary? Is she alright? Is the baby OK?'

He saw her concern in the way she straightened her back, leaning forwards and in the tone of her voice.

'Yes, physically she's fine. I...I need your help.' And just like that up he knew he had took a wrong turn somehow. Molly's lips flattened out and her face hardened. 'So, the kiss downstairs, the meal, it was all just a ploy. You know you could have just asked me for my help this afternoon. You didn't need to go through this whole charade.'

'What? No, Molly I didn't...I mean there was no charade. Yes I always intended to talk to you about Mary but I was honest about wanting to spend time with you. I...I've missed you Molly.'

He saw her purse her lips and tilt her head, assessing him the way he often assessed others. It felt strange... odd to be on the receiving end.

'And the kiss? What was that?'

He looked at the unlit fire, the corner of the room anywhere but her as he considered his answer. 'I...I don't know. It just sort of happened. That is to say I...I wanted it to happen. Does it have to be more than that?' He realised his voice had took on a pleading edge and he hoped she wouldn't push him further...not yet. He needed time to consider his emotions.

'So it wasn't a manipulation?'

This time there was no hesitation and he looked her direct in the eye, realising all over again just how warm and open they were. 'No, never. Molly, I would never do that to you...not now.'

She sat for a moment and then nodded her head as though coming to some internal decision. 'OK, so what is it you wanted to say about Mary?'

He realised that what he said next would be a shock but he couldn't think of any better way to broach the subject. It was never going to be easy for Molly to hear.

'It was Mary who shot me.'

There was silence in the room whilst Molly processed what he had said, 'hang on...Mary? How do you...no, of course, you saw her.' Molly huffed and Sherlock could almost see her thoughts. He liked the fact that she hadn't questioned what he had said, hadn't made him repeat himself like so many others would have. No, she believed him, accepted it just because he'd said it. She trusted him.

'Why haven't you told Lestrade? What don't I know?'

'She was there to kill or threaten Magnussen, the same man I was investigating. I got in the way and she shot me. She was the reason I left the hospital. I had to make sure that John knew, that John was safe.'

'And is he...safe that is?'

He sipped at his coffee and nodded. 'Yes, I believe he is. Mary genuinely loves John. But she has a past. A serious past. She worked for the CIA for at least ten years before leaving about five years ago. I believe that someone planted her here with John, no doubt to see if he knew whether I was still alive and if he did perhaps get a handle on where I was. Things became complicated though when Mary fell in love. Her loyalties are divided. I still don't know who she is working for and whether she still is and if John found out it would probably kill him. Her shooting me was the reason for their separation last year and it was hard on John. I'm sure you saw that.'

Molly nodded. 'Yes. I never knew the reason for the split but I agree that John took it badly.'

'I need to keep Mary close, for John and the baby's sake as much as for mine. If she were to leave, with his child...but I need to know who she was working for and whether she still is. And I need to do that without hurting John. That's where I need your help. I need for you to get closer to Mary, do whatever it is females do together. But be careful, don't let on that you know too much just let me know if she says anything...strange.'

He glanced at the clock. 'You should probably be going. You have work in the morning and it's late.'

Molly blushed and hurriedly put her cup down, 'yes, yes of course.'

Sherlock stood and helped her on with her coat before walking her downstairs.

He opened the front door and stood with her on the pavement looking for a cab which, for once, was non-existent.

'Thank you for tonight Sherlock. The meal was lovely and...well, it was nice spending time with you.'

He looked down at her and once again the atmosphere between them seemed to alter, 'I agree, I'll see you soon then Molly.'

As a cab finally turned up and Molly made to enter it he caught her hand and she turned back. Without saying anything further he kissed her once more on the lips, in a similar way to their first kiss in the restaurant. Then he waved her and the cab good night.

MHMHMHMHMHMHMHMHMH

Molly knew absolutely that she would struggle to sleep that night. She turned in her seat inside the cab and watched Sherlock wave before slowly turning away and walking to the entrance to 221B before he glanced once more at the cab. Then it turned the corner and she could see him no more. Hand on heart she had no idea what the future held for her and Sherlock but for the first time she had the very real possibility that there might actually be one.

He hadn't said anything about his feelings but...and it was a big but, he'd kissed her and confirmed he'd wanted to and that it wasn't a manipulation and most of all she believed him.

Slowly a smile spread across her face and she hugged herself.

'You look happy miss, good night was it?'

She caught the driver's eye in the rear view mirror. 'Oh yes, the best night ever.'

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

Sherlock locked up the front door and made his way back up to his flat. He had a lot to think about. He considered going to bed but he hadn't slept well the night before. It had been his second night alone in the flat since John had moved back out and once again he'd woken up drenched in sweat and crying out the name of...but he didn't need to dwell on that.

Instead he changed into his pyjamas and dressing gown and threw himself down onto the settee. He pressed his feet into the cool leather, sliding his body up until he was comfortable, then he closed his eyes and went into his mind palace.

The first image to come to him was Molly's. Unsurprising given the evening they had just spent together and the physical actions they had engaged in. Whilst his body was keen to dwell on the more physically rewarding kiss which took place outside on the street his head was more interested in his reactions to the kiss at Angelo's.

It hadn't been a spectacular kiss, just a brief press of lips but he had been totally unprepared for the emotions that had swept over him. In that moment he had realised that if it were possible for him to love anyone that someone was Molly Hooper. He had wanted to hold her tight, to keep her safe, to stay with her always.

He felt himself frown, this outpouring of sentimentality was the complete opposite of who he was, who he had thought he wanted to be. But there it was, he couldn't see any way of changing it. He played around with the words in his head, trying them out. _I love Molly Hooper...I love her...we love each other._ He still wasn't entirely convinced that it WAS love but there was enough feeling there that he had no choice but to explore it further. Maybe he could call in at Barts the next day, she might join him for coffee or they could pick up some fish and chips and go back to her flat.

Now he'd resolved that he was able to concentrate on the Moriarty case again, though he knew he was just retreading old ground. He had to be certain he had thought through every possibility. He'd been convinced when he returned to London just over a year ago that the worst of his network had been dismantled but he'd been mistaken. He didn't like making mistakes, mistakes were always dangerous. Not just to him but to his friends...maybe even to Molly. He needed to keep her safe. Maybe he could persuade her to move in with him. The more he thought about it the more advantages he could see in that idea but even he knew he would need to be careful about how he asked her.

He eventually drifted off to sleep in the early hours of the morning and though he tossed and turned his dreams were just that...dreams and they didn't disturb his sleep too much.

 **Right, it's time to mix things up a bit and introduce the plot. I'll post the next chapter on Sunday. Until then, let me know...was not to shag the right decision?**


	6. Chapter 6

**This story is about to hot up and you may have notice that I've changed the rating to M. Sorry, it's not for smut more for violence, I just want to play it safe.**

 **As before thank you all for your support and follows and favourites and now it's time to read on.**

 **Chapter 6**

But the next day instead of being able to visit Barts at his leisure, he instead had a visit from Lestrade. He'd come to invite Sherlock to join him in visiting a prisoner being held over an incident which had been all over the news the day before; a young girl of sixteen in foster care had returned back to school after the Christmas holidays and had promptly stabbed her chemistry teacher to death.

At the time Sherlock had paid little attention to it. It was an open and shut case, nothing for him to get excited about. It just seemed like an aberration, no puzzle to solve so no interest to him.

Lestrade had been contacted by the local police in Redhill in Surrey, asking for his advice, and after looking at the case details he had decided to ask Sherlock to accompany him.

'Do I have to? It's a long way.'

Greg looked around his empty flat. 'Why? Got lots of other offers have you?'

Sherlock thinned his lips. 'I'm busy...working on that clip of Moriarty in case you hadn't forgotten. I know how your simple brains can forget things as you swim around the bowl.'

Greg stood back up. 'Fine. Don't come. It's only a young girl, alone in this world...in need. Why would I ever have thought that you would care?'

For some reason Greg's description brought Molly to mind and Sherlock had to shake his head to rid himself of it. 'I don't care. Caring won't help her, won't save her...but maybe you're right. A change of case might help. I'll meet you at the train station.'

Thankfully, for Greg, the train ride to Redhill took little over thirty minutes. They were met at the other end and taken to the station where the girl was still being held before she was taken, on remand, to a young offenders institution.

Sherlock had read the file on the way up, Shardonnay West (he winced internally at the spelling of her first name) aged 16. Her mother was a drug addict and had had little contact with her daughter for the last twelve years. She had been in and out of homes and foster care since then though the details of where she had stayed up until about a year ago seemed to be missing. She already had a record of minor crimes as well as an anti-social behaviour order against her. As he'd originally thought it seemed a simple case; that was until he read the interview notes.

The girl insisted she had no reason to kill her teacher, she had liked him, she had no recollection of that morning at all and there were no drugs in her system to explain her amnesia. The attending officers were confused as to whether she were just lying or genuine in her horror and denial of knowledge.

The other shock was when Sherlock realised that he knew the victim. The name hadn't yet been revealed publicly but he was one Harvey Goldman and Sherlock had been at University with him. They had never really been friends, in fairness Sherlock had never really gone in for friendships before John, but Harvey had been competent enough. He'd scraped through his exams, spent far too much time boozing and picking up girls but nothing particularly out of the norm. Sherlock hadn't heard from him or thought about him from the moment they had graduated until now. He pondered whether the connection to himself, albeit tenuous, had any relevance.

There was a bit of consternation when they arrived about Lestrade having invited along a person so wholly unconnected to the police and it took all Greg's powers of persuasion to have Sherlock allowed to sit in on the interview but eventually they agreed on the proviso that he said nothing.

Only Sherlock saw the tight set of Greg's mouth as he agreed. They both knew it was highly unlikely he would stay quiet.

Eventually they were taken to a small interview room and the girl was brought in, accompanied by her social worker. In Sherlock's eyes she was an ineffectual employee, aged early forties and currently going through a messy divorce. She was also likely to lose her job within a month, though her spending habits reflected neither of those events...she was obviously sleep-walking her way into debt and poverty. Not that he cared.

He turned his attention to the girl. She had the veneer of being hard but underneath he could see her fear. The chipped, black nail polish and the mulish expression on her face all spoke of a hard life where you had to appear to be tough.

Once again though he found himself thinking of Molly as he looked at her. She had a similar shaped face and the same brown eyes though hers were steely and hard as opposed to Molly's warmth. He pushed the thoughts away. He needed to concentrate. Something was 'off' about the girl and he wasn't quite sure what.

Her answers to Lestrade's questions had all been as per the previous interviews but as she spoke about the events her eyes seemed to unfocus momentarily. Her story didn't alter though. She remembered getting up, she'd been fed up about having to go back to school. She was planning to truant after lunch but she enjoyed Chemistry. It was the one subject she enjoyed and her teacher Mr Goldman was alright. She recalled walking into the classroom and that was all. Her next memory was being hauled out of the room by two other teachers and the police being called.

Eventually Lestrade ran out of questions to ask. He turned to Sherlock, 'anything?'

Sherlock inclined his head as he looked at the girl, she just stared back at him trying to look defiant. 'When you...'

Sherlock got no further with his question, as soon as he began to speak something changed. Her eyes took on that glazed look again and she stared right at him. 'I knew you would come!' Then without warning she picked up the pen that Lestrade had brought in with his files and she drove in through her eye pressing it deeper and deeper into her skull even as she let out an inhuman scream at the pain.

Before anyone could do anything more than react in shock she fell forward onto the desk, dead; a pool of blood starting to seep out from her eye socket and spread in a thick pool across the desk.

The social worker screamed and Sherlock's chair thudded to the floor as he stood up in utter confusion, the sound making both him and Lestrade jump as the crash echoed around the small room.

'What the fuck...' Greg seemed to come back to himself and he pressed the panic alarm as Sherlock pressed his fingers to the non-existent pulse in her neck.

'What just happened Sherlock? What the hell just happened?' Greg shouted as other officers came into the room, one already on his phone calling for an ambulance.

Sherlock's mind was whirling. He hadn't been fully engaged with the case before but he was now.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

The next hour was a maelstrom of people; paramedics, police and more social workers come to support their beleaguered colleague. Sherlock just found them all irritating. He locked himself away from it all, in a small room, with the girl's file and he was worried. Most of her history, anything prior to about a year ago, bar her birth, was missing. Apparently the records hadn't yet been digitised and the file had been lost when the girl moved from Croydon to Redhill.

His only insistence had been to get Lestrade to ensure that the girl's body was taken to Barts for post mortum.

'I'm way out of my jurisdiction Sherlock. The local pathology unit should do it. I was only called in because the local Inspector and I are mates from way back. He just wanted some help.'

'I don't care what you have to do to make it happen. This case is important; I need Molly to do the autopsy. I want to conduct the toxicology report myself. That girl was on something, she must have been, and I want to know what.'

He didn't know what Greg had done thereafter but the local force had agreed eventually to pass the case to Scotland Yard. As her body was bagged and taken away Sherlock sent Molly a quick text telling her what to pay particular attention to and the fact he would join her as soon as he were able to.

It was almost another two hours before he and Lestrade could leave. They had to sit through another two interviews where they detailed exactly what had taken place. Sherlock argued that they had the interview recorded and didn't need to waste everyone's time but it was to no avail and he was in a terrible mood by the time they arrived back at the train station.

'Incompetent, moronic, idiots!' Was all he could manage as they sat in their seats on the express train back to London. He didn't even bother to hear what Lestrade said in response he just closed his eyes and thought through the tests he wanted to carry out when he finally made it back to Barts.

By the time he entered the morgue it was early evening and his mood had been little improved by being stuck in a cab in traffic. He had berated the cabbie to such an extent that he'd been threatened with the police, which had just made Lestrade roll his eyes in exasperation, eventually having to flash his badge and threaten to punch Sherlock if he didn't shut up.

He hit the double doors so hard they banged on the wall as he entered, making Molly jump. She knocked against the tray with her instruments on causing them to clatter to the floor.

'God, Sherlock what the hell is wrong with you?' She yanked off her gloves as she set about picking everything up.

'What's wrong with me! There's nothing wrong with me, I'm just surrounded by a bunch of useless, incompetent, time-wasting...'

'Yeah, yeah alright Sherlock put a sock in it. Evening Molly, I see you've started the autopsy on the girl. Have you found anything interesting yet?' Lestrade walked past a fuming Sherlock to help Molly in picking up the rest of her equipment.

She smiled at him and raised her eyebrows as she looked past him at Sherlock who was removing his coat and scarf, throwing them on a nearby table.

Greg rolled his eyes and sighed. 'Don't ask Molly, it's been a long day! Remind me never to take him on a train journey again.'

They smiled at each other conspiratorially and then looked guilty when Sherlock called them out on it.

'So Molly, if you've quite finished flirting with the Detective Inspector perhaps you'd be good enough to regale us with your findings.'

Molly stood up and took a deep breath before turning to face him. In her calmest voice she replied. 'Sherlock! I should have finished work an hour ago. Instead, I have stayed on specifically to assist you in this case. I do not expect your thanks, I know better than that after all these years, but I do expect to be treated, and spoken to, with respect. Do I make myself clear?'

There was a beat of silence where Greg held his breath wondering what Sherlock's reaction was going to be. After all his rantings over the last few hours it was a shock when he saw Sherlock shift uncomfortably before letting his shoulders sag. 'I'm sorry Molly. Please, do continue.'

'Thank you, right well I've only conducted a cursory examination so far but I've already found some quite unusual evidence for you.'

 **I don't know about you guys but I like a Molly who stands up for herself.**

 **Anyway, the plot has begun. Any thoughts?**


	7. Chapter 7

**Ooh glad I've managed to intrigue so many of you and I'm only getting started :). I should mention a warning for talk of abuse at the start of the chapter but it's only one line and not expanded on any further.**

 **Chapter 7**

The two men walked over to the body as Molly started to point out some of the things she had found.

'There is evidence all over her of old injuries, lots of old injuries. This girl has been through some serious levels of abuse. This got me thinking and I have checked for signs of sexual activity and again there are signs of rough vaginal activity, though nothing recently. I'd say that some of her injuries go back up to five years. I've not done any blood work yet but I've taken samples, I know you wanted to check that side yourself Sherlock and I'm happy to help. I'll carry out a full autopsy tomorrow morning.'

'Yes, thank you Molly. I would appreciate your help. I'll take the samples and meet you upstairs in a few minutes. Would you like a coffee?'

Lestrade looked as though he'd been slapped. 'I'm sorry, who are you and what have you done with Sherlock Holmes?'

'Yes, very funny Gavin. Maybe you can see whether you can dig up any further information on this girl's history, given what Molly has said there must surely be some police records attached to her. Ring me once you find something.'

'I'll ring your bloody neck if your mood doesn't improve...' Was what Molly heard as Greg walked away.

As the doors swung shut behind him she turned to Sherlock who was typing on his phone, 'bad day then was it?'

He glanced up at her and couldn't help but smile at the cheeky look on her face. 'You could say that. Why am I constantly surrounded by imbeciles?' Molly's face started to fall. 'Present company excepted, of course.' He tagged on quickly.

'Good save. Right, well I'd better finish up here. I'll see you in a minute...oh and yes, coffee would be lovely. Twice in two days, be careful I might get used to this level of attention.'

Sherlock put his phone back into his pocket and looked at Molly properly for the first time. She looked tired, so she hadn't slept well the night before, he wondered why that was. Her hair was parted at the side and he knew she had used the style he'd complimented once so many years ago so maybe it was himself that had caused her disturbed sleep.

He walked over to her suddenly wanting to feel closer to her. She had her back to him as she stood once more looking down at the girl and didn't notice his approach until he wrapped his arms around her waist; his chest pressed up against her back. He felt her jump a little at his unexpected touch before bringing her hands up to rest over his as she leant back against him.

'You didn't sleep well last night. I deduce you were thinking about me.'

She turned her head to glance at him. 'What! Big headed much?'

'I think you know me well enough to know the answer to that is yes, I am very big headed and selfish and self-obsessed. If it's any consolation I thought about you last night as well.'

She turned in his arms and he saw the embarrassed blush on her cheeks. 'All good I hope?'

'Oh yes, all very good.' He bent his head and in the split seconds it took him to reach her lips he saw her eyes dilate before her eyelids closed, saw her lips redden imperceptibly as they opened, anticipating his kiss. He moved his hand to her neck and felt her pulse as his lips touched hers feeling her heart beat accelerate under his fingers knowing that his own was doing the same. She brought his body to life in a way nothing else ever had. Kissing her was almost a drug in its own right. As she moaned into his mouth it sent shivers through his body ending in his groin and he felt himself reacting to her in a more obvious and masculine way than he had the night before.

It was the pulse of blood to his manhood that had him pulling back and away from her. He loved how she looked after he had kissed her, all dazed and slightly mussed up. He would kiss her again before the night was out but maybe here at Barts now was not the time or the place.

'Right, I'll see you in the lab.' With that he picked up his coat and left.

MHMHMHMHMHMHMHMHMH

It took Molly a couple of minutes to get her head back into work mode; another grin creeping across her face as she bit her lip and thought back over the last couple of minutes. God she loved him when he was angry, he was all buzzing with energy and emotion. He would talk faster and breathe harder and the poor buttons on his shirt would have to work overtime. She wasn't afraid to call him out though when that anger turned on her; she hadn't been his doormat for years now and she certainly wasn't going to change that because they had 'something' going on.

It looked as though last night had not been a one off. He seemed to be wanting to continue whatever they had started and Molly was more than happy with that too. This time the kiss had been less of a shock and she had felt herself reacting to him in more ways than one. She'd be more than willing to take it further, in the right location, but she didn't want to spook him. She felt as though she needed him to go at his own pace. She wasn't even sure whether he'd ever had a relationship or sex before, though going by his kisses he had some experience. He was a damn good kisser.

'Concentrate Hooper!' She said out loud to no one but herself. She finished what she was doing with the body before stowing it away until the next day and then went to join Sherlock in the labs.

True to his word there was a hot cup of coffee waiting for her along with a list of the tests he wanted her to get started on. She rolled her eyes as she read it, these would take half the night. So much for her plans to have an early night to make up for the sleepless one the night before.

Sherlock had removed his jacket and rolled up the sleeves of his white shirt. He was deep in concentration with whatever he was looking at. His hand was gently turning the dial on the side and she could see his lips moving slightly as he spoke to himself. She loved watching him working like this; he was so intense, so driven. It was sexy as hell.

She shook her head and picked up the list and the coffee and set to work. They worked well together; they always had; swapping notes, questioning results, devising new tests. They weren't having much luck though. Sherlock was testing for all those drugs that might not show up on the standard report which would be run the next day. He was convinced there was some drug at play but if she had ingested anything it was long gone from her system.

He threw down his pen in frustration and stretched his arms, feeling his shoulders and spine protesting after being hunched over the microscope for too long. He glanced over at Molly and felt suddenly guilty about how tired she looked. He checked his watch and saw it was past ten.

'Come on, let me take you home Molly. We can get some chips on the way. You look ready to drop.'

She yawned and stretched in a similar way to him and he noticed how her breasts pushed against the material of her top. He had a sudden intense desire to roll his tongue around her nipple, to suck her breast into his mouth and feel her arching into his touch. He had to take a breath to divert his mind back to the present.

It didn't take them long to pack up and grab their coats, wrapping up against the cold night air. By the time they got outside it was snowing, the ground already slippery and coated in a thin layer of crisp flakes.

He put his arm around Molly's waist to help guide her to a waiting cab, knowing how clumsy she could be sometimes and not wanting her to fall. Once in he directed the cabbie to the chip shop en route to Molly's flat and then sat back in the cab to think about what he knew so far about the girl. Although she was the murderer in this case he saw her very much as a victim. Someone had made her like this, but who and more importantly why? Was the victim's connection to himself important? He thought it was and the girl's words; she had recognised his voice. He had somehow triggered her suicide. 'I knew you would come.' That's what she had said before killing herself. What did she mean?

He gradually became aware that Molly was leaning against him. He looked down to find her asleep against his arm. His normal reaction to such an event would have been mild disgust. He remembered John doing similar after a case and he'd nudged him until he'd awoken and moved over to sleep against the window. With Molly it was different. He found himself unwilling to disturb her wanting to make her more comfortable even. He considered his options for a moment and then lifted his arm to wrap around her shoulders, pulling her against him so she was more efficiently positioned.

When they got to the chippy he persuaded the cab driver, at no inconsiderable cost, to go in and buy the chips and he pondered whether he could actually get Molly to her flat without waking her but it seemed unfeasible so reluctantly, as they arrived, he shook her gently, 'Molly, we're here. Time to wake up.'

She scrunched up her nose and opened her eyes, blinking once or twice before peering up at him and realising how close they were. 'Oh God, I'm sorry.'

He smiled, 'don't be...I actually enjoyed it. Come on, let's eat these chips and then get you to bed.'

He found himself colouring at his double-entendre. Was he really ready to sleep with Molly? In a heartbeat his groin said yes but his brain screamed that it was too much too soon.

He carried the chips and followed Molly up the stairs to her flat. It had been a while since he'd been here. A few months back he'd used her spare room as a bolt hole during the Magnussen case. He hadn't been able to use his wall in Baker St or Janine would have seen it. Come to think of it, he'd never been back to remove the information. When he asked Molly she confirmed it was all still there, she hadn't touched any of it.

'I wasn't sure whether it was still important or not. He's dead now isn't he? The guy you were investigating. What happened to him?'

Sherlock felt his heart drop, oh yes, maybe there was one more explanation required.

 **They keep mounting up these confessions don't they? Hope you're liking the balance between plot and Sherlolly. Let me know.**


	8. Chapter 8

**Well, you were all very quiet about that last chapter so I'm not sure what to think. Anyway, regardless I shall plod on and here is the latest instalment.**

 **Chapter 8**

In the end he ignored her question. It was too late to get into all that now; he'd rather tell her when they were a little more established. A voice in his head, which sounded suspiciously like John's said that that was 'not good' but he brushed it off.

As if to confirm he'd made the right decision he saw Molly visibly sag as she made it into her flat and he made a mental note to take better care of her. He had never really considered the impact of his requests on her time; just assumed, as he always did, that she had nothing better to do. Her cat was mewing for food so whilst she fed him Sherlock decanted the chips onto two plates and carried them through into her small front room.

This time he didn't hesitate to sit on the settee. He was just as tired as Molly now he came to think about it and he had no energy or inclination to resist his feelings for her.

They sat and ate in relative silence with just an odd comment about other tests that they could do the next day. As they finished Molly asked if Sherlock would like a cup of cocoa.

'It's late Sherlock, why don't you stay over? In the spare room I mean.' She blushed delightfully but Sherlock nodded. 'If you don't mind, that does sound good.'

She made the drinks and they sat sipping them whilst Sherlock wondered how he could get things back to the kissing front. He hadn't forgotten his promise to himself from earlier to kiss her again before the night was done. It also hadn't gone unnoticed, by him, that she was leaving all the moves to him. She was obviously nervous about initiating contact; it wasn't in her nature to hold back, he'd always known her to be quite tactile with others so she was no doubt still feeling unconfident around him.

'Molly...'

Her eyes flicked over to him, 'yes?'

'You know you CAN kiss me if you want to. I mean to say...this...this is a two way street. I don't want you to feel as though you can't be...well, more...'

'Touchy-feely with you.' She finished for him and then giggled at his grimace over her choice of phrase.

She put her cup down and turned towards him before placing her hand on his knee. He could feel the warmth of it through his trousers and had to force himself not to bite his lip or close his eyes. He didn't want to come across like a teenager, though that was how she made him feel in some ways.

She let her hand slide up to mid-way up his thigh and she brought her other hand up to his face, he could see her eyes almost examining him in a way he knew she hadn't felt able to before. This time he did let his eyelids flutter shut as he leant into the hand that was resting on his cheek. He felt her fingers slide over his cheekbone and then down to his jaw. Finally as he opened his eyes and looked down at her she dragged her thumb across his lips. He couldn't wait any longer and he reached for her pulling her to him as he kissed her.

He decided he loved kissing Molly. As her mouth opened to his he could feel her hands in his hair and as she tugged lightly on his curls he felt a growl, that he hadn't expected, leave his throat. He all but dragged her up onto his lap so she was as close as possible to him.

The kiss went on for so long he started to feel dizzy from lack of oxygen. He pulled back and her lips moved to his jaw and then down to his neck and he could feel her sucking and biting at his skin. Her hands had left his hair and were even now at his waist pulling his shirt from his trousers.

As her hands touched the skin of his back he sought out her lips once more, this time letting his tongue explore her mouth loving the sounds she made and the way her nails scraped against his skin. He knew he needed to slow things down and control the pace they were going at but he was enjoying just being in the moment.

It was Molly who broke away this time, breathing heavily, as his mouth found its way down to her throat.

'God, Sherlock that feels so good. But...but maybe we shouldn't...I mean if you don't want to, we should...'

He stopped what he was doing and rested his forehead against her shoulder feeling his heartbeat racing in his chest. He squeezed his eyes shut conscious of the mixed messages he was receiving from his head and his body. He wanted her...he did...but...

It was the 'but' that won and he lifted his head and smiled at her, feeling a level of pride at how red her lips were and the fact that her hair was now loose around her shoulders, he only had a vague memory of pulling it down.

'Maybe you're right...we're in no rush.' He kissed her lightly one last time before she extracted herself from his lap.

'Is it alright if I use the bathroom first? Your things are still in the spare room where you left them but shout out if you need anything.'

He leant back on the settee letting his body recover for a moment; noting his heartbeat reducing and his breathing starting to level out. He'd only stayed over a couple of times before and both times Molly had been out. This would be their first time together in the flat but it felt so natural.

He watched her leave the room and smiled to himself about how things were going with her before he stood and made his way to the spare room.

MHMHMHMHMHMHMHMHMH

This time Molly found it easy to get to sleep. Her body was physically exhausted and refused to let her mind dwell on everything that had happened that day plus she was feeling much more confident about her "relationship" with Sherlock so there were less emotions and concerns rolling around in her mind.

She slept like a log until the early hours when she gradually became aware of noises coming from the other bedroom.

She opened her eyes, glancing at the illuminated clock, 4.03am. She lifted her head to hear better only to hear what sounded like a sob coming from Sherlock's room. Was he crying? That really didn't seem like something he would do.

She reluctantly climbed out of her warm bed and stopped only to wrap a robe around herself. Then softly she padded to the door of her spare bedroom and put her ear to it to see if she could hear him better. Now that she was closer it sounded much more like he was choking.

Without even thinking it through she burst into his room barely letting her eyes adjust to the scene which was lit only by the light from the hallway.

Sherlock was lying on the bed with the sheets twisted awkwardly around him as though he had been tossing and turning all night. He was on his back and he was almost fully arched off the bed as he coughed and choked but Molly could see nothing to cause the noises he was making.

She rushed over to the bed and knelt on the side as she put her arms out to try to wake him. She took him by the shoulders and shook him even as she called his name. 'Sherlock, Sherlock it's me Molly. You need to wake up.'

As soon as she spoke he started to calm down; his breathing still laboured but not that same awful choking noise. His eyes fluttered open as he reached for her pulling her over his body. She landed at the side of him with a huff. Without appearing to be fully awake he wrapped his arms around her middle and buried his face in her chest.

Automatically she brought her hands up to his head letting her fingers brush through his sweat soaked, damp curls. She found herself repeating over and over. 'It's OK, it's OK I'm here.' He'd obviously suffered some kind of nightmare.

As his breathing started to even out Molly wondered whether she should leave him but each time she tried to pull away he either tightened his grip or his breathing would grow erratic and frown lines would start to mar his features. In the end she resigned herself to staying for the rest of the night though she hoped he would understand her explanation in the morning.

Bit by bit she managed to manoeuvre herself into a more comfortable sleeping position with some covers over both of them and sooner than she would have thought possible she fell asleep finally finding herself in the arms of the man of her dreams.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

When Sherlock woke up a couple of hours later it was to the bizarre fact that not only was Molly in his bed but he was holding onto her as though she were his childhood teddy bear. He didn't have time to think it through in any more detail though as the phone, which had awoken him, was still ringing.

He let go of Molly and rolled over trying to find where he had left it on the bedside cabinet. He could hear Molly stirring behind him as his hand finally fell on it.

'Yes!'

'Sherlock...it's Lestrade. We've got a multiple murder site at the homeless shelter just off Soho Square. We have five victims, three men and two women. They've all been stabbed; it's a bit of a blood bath.'

'So, why are you ringing me? There must be a reason.'

'There is but you're not going to like it.'

'Just tell me.'

'Fine, written on the wall in the victim's blood is the sign Get Sherlock. Thing is...it's written just like the one Moriarty wrote at the Tower of London heist right down to the smiley face in the O of Sherlock. I think you should come down and take a look.'

As he sat up glancing at the clock Molly opened her eyes, 'Sherlock? Who is it? What time is it?'

'It's Lestrade and it's 6.07 go back to sleep.'

'Sorry, Sherlock. Was that a woman? Where are you?'

'I'm at Molly's. I'll be with you in about half an hour.'

'Wait Molly Hooper...you're in bed with Molly Hooper?'

'I'm sorry Detective Inspector is this relevant to the case at all or are we just getting side-tracked by gossip?'

'We're getting side-tracked by gossip but don't worry I'll save the Spanish Inquisition til you get here; I could do with a good distraction, it's been a bit of a shit morning so far.'

On that note Sherlock hung up throwing his phone back down as he rubbed his face with his hands trying to wake himself up. He needed a shower before he could set off and he still had no idea how Molly had ended up in his bed. He glanced down at her to find her looking back at him shyly.

'Morning,' she said with a blush.

 **So, a bit of a full chapter, lots going on, I'd love to know the bits you like and the bits that have got you wondering so let me know :) and please don't make me beg for reviews though I will if I have to.**


	9. Chapter 9

**Thank you so much for all your reviews for the last chapter; it gave me a real boost to know that you were all on board and enjoying it. So, on with the next chapter where the plot thickens. And seeing as we have good weather today here's hoping we get some nice pics of Ben at Wimbledon if he turns up this year.**

 **Chapter 9**

In the end Molly went to make coffee for them both whilst Sherlock showered. He joined her a few minutes later with a towel wrapped around his waist and using another to dry his hair whilst he informed her as to what had happened. She had to concentrate on his words really hard as his half naked body was proving to be even more diverting than she had ever thought it would be.

'We'll need autopsies on the bodies but it will be a couple of hours before they're transferred to your mortuary, no need to rush in. You should have got a bit more sleep.'

He sipped at the scalding liquid wincing as he almost burnt his lip.

'It's OK. I'm awake now. I would have had to get up at half past anyway. I'm due in for eight.'

He looked at her and wondered how best to word his next question. 'So, how come you ended up in my bed? Not that I'm complaining, it was surprisingly pleasant to wake up with your company but...'

'Oh that...well...you see, you seemed to be having some kind of nightmare. I only meant to wake you but well...you seemed to prefer to keep me there.'

As she looked at him she was surprised to see a rare blush on his cheeks. She carried on, trying to make it easier for him. 'I didn't mind...I mean, we all have bad dreams don't we.'

'I apologise Molly, I didn't mean to wake you or scare you. I didn't think it would happen..I...'

She's reached out to him and put her hand on his arm with a concerned look on her face. 'Is this a regular occurrence then?'

He looked as though he were about to say something but then she saw the shutters going down in his eyes. He pushed off from the counter where he'd been leaning. 'I need to get dressed. I told Lestrade I'd be there as soon as possible. Thank you for the coffee.'

And with that dismissal ringing in her ears she watched him walk off to the bedroom.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

As he sat in the cab in his way to Soho he thought over the conversation with Molly and he knew he shouldn't have been so abrupt with her. It was just that his nightmares were so connected with his past and his past was something he wished he could forget. He didn't want to have to taint Molly with it but he suspected he would need to at some point. A voice nagged at him that he was building up a whole raft of secrets that he should be discussing with Molly but instead he was just ignoring them.

He redirected his thoughts by ringing John and demanding he meet him at the murder scene.

'Bloody Hell Sherlock, you know you could try and be polite just once in your life.'

'Oh, I'm sorry will politeness get you out of bed and down there quicker. No I didn't think so. I'll see you there in fifteen minutes.'

He vaguely heard John calling him a bastard as he hung up but his mind was already turning to the case. Once again there were murders and a connection to himself with the added interest of the connection to Moriarty. Did this have anything to do with the video reel of him?

As the cab pulled up and he was paying he spotted Wiggins making his way over to meet him. He opened the door and climbed out. 'What have you got for me?'

'Hey Shezza, thought you'd be here before long.'

'I've told you before it's Mr Holmes to you when I'm not under cover. Anyway, what happened here? What have you heard?'

'I wasn't at this shelter; I was down at the one near Regents Park but my mate Ethan he was here. He managed to get out along with half a dozen others. None of them want to talk to the police...you know what they're like. They just don't trust the fuzz.'

Sherlock circled his hand, 'moving on...get to the point.'

'Yeah alright, keep yer 'air on. Ethan recognised the killer. He's been around a while, most people know 'im. He's a long term druggie...heroin, cocaine whatever he can get. Managed to avoid prison for the most part but a proper addict. Well, you know what with being one yourself.'

Sherlock frowned. 'I'm a user not an addict.'

'Yeah, right, whatever you want to tell yourself. We all have our excuses for it.'

'It's not an excuse.'

'You don't have to explain yourself to me Mr 'Olmes. I know what it's like...the itch never goes away no matter what you describe it as. Once an addict always an addict, isn't that what everyone says.'

'I don't care what everyone says when the vast majority are both addicts and idiots. Anyway I need more, a name, a description not a sob story about life on drugs. Come on.'

Wiggins just rolled his eyes but carried on. 'He's known as Bob. Doesn't mean that's his name though. From his accent I'd put him as South London, maybe even Surrey or somewhere round there. He's been around last couple of years but weird thing is his clothes are still smart, not designer but good quality...Next, M&S so it always seemed like he had somewhere to go or someone helping him. He's 6'2 weighs about 10 stone 4, thin as... typical druggie. Dark hair receding, green eyes, aged about 45. No noticeable birthmarks but he did have scars on his arms. I noticed one time when he pushed his sleeve up. I don't mean needle marks I mean cuts, I assumed they were self-inflicted but who knows.'

Sherlock passed Bill some money. 'Get out there. See what else you can find out, get me a witness who'll at least talk off the record; even if it's only to me. If you get a fix on where he might be let me know.'

'Sure will Shezza...sorry Mr Holmes.'

By the time Sherlock had taken the short walk to the main entrance Wiggins had melted away into the onlooking crowds that had gathered to see what lurid gossip they could pick up. A couple of journalists spotted him as he got closer and called his name but Sherlock just ignored them. He had no need for publicity on this case yet.

Inside was brightly lit and crowded; Sherlock despaired once more at the stupidity of modern policing. How could they expect to see, let alone understand the signs and clues if they were being trampled on and hidden by a throng of people; half of whom he was certain had no need to be there.

He soon spotted Lestrade and made his way over, stepping over various body parts as he went. This wasn't just a stabbing. Whoever had done this had gone mad, it was a frenzied and brutal attack.

'Sherlock, thank god you're here. There's no CCTV around here, apparently it spooks the residents and no one is talking to us. They're supposed to keep records of who stays each night but they're as much use as a chocolate fire guard. According to the list we had Mickey Mouse, Keira Knightley and Steve Perry staying over last night to name just a few.'

Sherlock ignored him as he walked past and up to the blood-painted sign on the wall. It was uncannily like the one that Jim had written back to front on the glass of the security glass in the Tower. Whoever had written this had seen and studied that one. The blood was fresh, still damp in places. The police had been called almost as soon as the murders had happened.

Lestrade continued talking. 'Two of the victims are staff at the shelter who no doubt came to help when they heard the screams. We know most of the residents must have got out but none of them have hung around to give us details so we have no idea who we're looking for.'

Sherlock passed on the description that Wiggins had given him.

'Bloody hell Sherlock. How in God's name did you deduce all that?'

Sherlock turned his head back to pierce Lestrade with a withering look. 'Don't be an idiot Gavin. Of course, I didn't deduce it. How would I know his name from a murder scene? He didn't sign his work. I bumped into one of my network outside and he provided the profile. Honestly, I know you can be stupid at times but that's hitting Anderson levels.'

He turned away missing the way Lestrade pursed his lips as he forced himself to not react to Sherlock's barbs. Greg was used to the way he could be, especially in the middle of a case; he could have just done without his company two days in a row.

As Sherlock started to examine the scene, measuring stab wounds and pulling out his pocket magnifying glass, John arrived.

He made his way over and joined Lestrade who was watching Sherlock. Greg brought him up to speed with what was going on before adding, 'you'd have thought him spending the night with Molly would have put the git in a better mood but it seems not.'

John's head comically swung around to look at the Inspector. 'I'm sorry. What?'

Lestrade looked at him in return. 'Didn't you know? I assumed you would. When I rang him this morning he was in bed with Molly. I could hear her talking in the background and he confirmed it was her though he shut me down when I queried it.'

'Sherlock...and Molly Hooper!'

'I know...I always assumed he was gay. Either that or asexual, the guy has never shown any interest in the opposite sex whenever I've been around. You must know more, you lived with him, got close...you know.'

John bridled, as he always did, at the slight implication in the statement. 'We were only ever friends, nothing more. But honestly Sherlock and sex just never, ever made an appearance. I mean, there was the Woman, you remember the Dominatrix?'

Lestrade's eyebrows rose and he grinned. 'Bloody hell, do I ever. She was one hot piece, so, what her and Sherlock?'

'No, no it was never like that. I mean she fascinated him but not because of sex...at least that was never the impression I got...'

The two men fell silent as they both recalled the woman who went by the title the Whip Hand. After a few moments John added, 'maybe there's some innocent explanation for this morning...'

Before Greg could reply Sherlock called over. 'If you two girls have finished gossiping about my love life maybe you could pay some attention to the case!' He stood upright, straightening his jacket. 'I've got everything I need here. The bodies can be sent to Barts, Molly's expecting them.'

John was itching to ask Sherlock more about Molly but he wasn't sure that he should so in the end he said nothing. Sherlock narrowed his eyes and tilted his head slightly as he looked at them both before sighing loudly and lifting his hands in a sign of exasperation.

'Yes, I was in bed with Molly. No, we didn't have sex but yes we are together. Are you both happy now? Can we proceed and actually get on with solving these murders?'

John and Greg mutely nodded their heads.

'Fine, John you're with me. Lestrade, text me if you find out any more information.' With that he swept out of the room leaving John running to catch up with him.

 **I don't know about you guys but I always love the moment where John or Greg find out about Sherlock and Molly being together. Never fails to bring a smile to my face.**


	10. Chapter 10

**Back from work, which ended up longer than expected and my head feels as though it's full of cotton wool. thankfully this chapter was already edited and ready to go but apologies for any errors I normally give them another read through before posting but I haven't got it in me today.**

 **In other news, the pics coming out of setlock are making me :O**

 **Chapter 10**

It was no good though, as they sat in the cab on their way to Barts John couldn't resist asking Sherlock more questions.

'So, how long has it been going on?'

'What?'

'You and Molly. How long?'

'Not long, couple of days.' His phoned pinged. He retrieved it from his pocket and read the text. 'Brilliant. Wiggins has a witness. I'll get him to bring her to the hospital and we can talk to her there.'

'How did it come about?'

'Well I would have thought that was obvious John. I asked him to find someone who was there last night. We need more information.'

'No, you and Molly. I mean you've never shown any interest before.'

'Oh for God's sake are you still on about that?'

'Yes, surprisingly enough I am. Finding out that my "married to his job" best friend has finally hooked up with another close friend is still playing on my mind somewhat. Especially when I know that there is a huge capacity here for Molly to be hurt. So?'

Sherlock huffed and was silent for a moment. 'Just because I haven't shown interest doesn't mean it wasn't there. We don't all have to go around wearing our hearts on our sleeve. And strangely enough being sent on a suicide mission does focus the mind towards the things we regret.'

'And you regretted not being with Molly?'

'Obviously. Now can we get back to the case?'

'Yeah almost. Just one more thing. Have you told her?'

'Told her what?'

'Have you told her what you've told me and more importantly have you told her you almost OD'd at New Year because I can't see her being that impressed. Can you?'

'Not yet...but I will, when this case is finished though. Now can we please concentrate?'

Ten minutes later they were sitting in Molly's office waiting for Wiggins and his witness. He'd warned them that the girl was young and terrified but John was shocked by just how young she did look when she arrived. She couldn't have been much over fifteen and he found himself wanting to ask her just how she'd got herself into such a vulnerable situation.

Sherlock cut straight to the chase though. As soon as she'd sat herself down he started with the questions. 'Tell me the events leading up to the murders last night.'

She looked nervously at Bill who nodded his head. 'Go ahead, it's alright, he's safe.'

Her voice was quiet but she was surprisingly well spoken. 'It was the early hours of the morning. Most people were asleep but there were a few of us who'd either just arrived or who just wanted somewhere warm to sit rather than sleep. The tv was on in the corner but most of us weren't watching it. I was reading my book, not really paying much attention. The news came on and one of the guys pointed you out. Said you were...erm...' She blushed.

Sherlock smirked. 'It's alright just spit it out.'

'Well, said you were the crazy hat detective who was like the homeless person's cash point. They showed the video clip of that other guy, you know the one who goes "miss me, miss me." Anyway soon after that was when all hell broke loose. Bob stood up and went into the kitchen. Well, no one paid any attention to that; we're allowed to make ourselves drinks and stuff. Next minute though he comes out with this butcher's cleaver. He must have broken into the drawer, coz the knives are locked away normally.'

'Before anyone can react he swung at this old bloke.' She broke off for a moment with a sob and closed her eyes. John passed her a tissue. 'Thanks, he nearly took his head clean off, I ain't never seen anything like it. It was like something out of a horror movie. One of the women screamed and he just turned and hit her in the chest. I've never seen so much blood. He hit her again. I was just frozen in place, I couldn't move...nothing.'

'Two of the staff must have heard the commotion and came in and tried to rush him but he lopped off one guys arm, below the elbow...' She blew her nose and sniffed before continuing. 'That was when I realised I had to get out of there. Luckily I was near the door, everyone was screaming and yelling. My mate Hannah just grabbed my arm and pulled me along with her and we just ran. Even when we got out onto the street we just kept going. She said there was no point hanging around, she was worried the police would come.'

'See,' she looked up at John and Sherlock nervously as though wondering if she could trust them. 'Well, I'm fifteen. I left home coz my step-dad...well, let's just say he was an evil bastard and I'm not going home not for anything. And I'm not going in no children's home either. Bill said you just wanted the info and you wouldn't turn me in.'

Sherlock nodded. 'Tell me more about Bob, did he say anything...anything at all?'

'No, nothing. It was eerie how quiet he was. His eyes looked...I dunno spaced or something. Maybe he took something when he went to the kitchen...it's not allowed though. There's a really strict no drugs policy in the shelter, everyone knows that. If you're caught with drugs you're out and banned for three months.'

Sherlock carried on quizzing her for another ten minutes but there was nothing else of use. He handed both her and Bill some money and showed them out into the lab. Molly was out there waiting and as they came out she led them both to the staff room where she had some hot soup and sandwiches waiting for them. John was unsurprised by her generosity and thoughtfulness and wondered once again about her feelings for Sherlock. He was her complete opposite, cold, focused and unfeeling. Though maybe he was wrong on that front as he saw Sherlock visibly soften as Molly came back in the room.

He watched as his friend went over and bent his head to kiss the small pathologist on the lips. Molly blushed and looked in his direction and he could just make out her saying 'what about John?' His friend responded with a wave of his hand. 'Don't worry, he knows about us.'

John almost had to shake his head in disbelief, it was strange seeing Sherlock look so intimate with someone; the last time had been with Janine and John just hoped he was genuine in his feelings for Molly. She didn't deserve to be messed around. It worried him that Sherlock wasn't being fully honest with her but likewise he didn't want to do anything to interfere in this fledgling relationship which had the capacity to be so good for his friend.

The next hour was spent finishing off some of Sherlock's tests from the night before whilst Molly was busy downstairs with the autopsies. Sherlock was just thinking about going over to Scotland Yard to discuss progress with Lestrade when John's phone rang.

John immediately paled. 'It's Mary,' he said to Sherlock as he answered it, 'she's due any day now.'

'Hey Love...when...how far apart? OK we have some time then...yes I know, I'm sorry...I'll be home in fifteen minutes. Just remember to breathe...yes I know that you know that...I know it's my fault...OK...see you soon.'

He turned to Sherlock who had risen from his stool. 'It's fine John I got the gist. You need to go. Just...well, good luck...text me if you need anything.'

He held his hand out to John who shook it, he was still pale and looked more worried than he needed to be. 'Thanks Sherlock...right, well...here I go then.'

He turned on his heel and marched out of the lab as if going into battle. Sherlock sighed and sat back down for a moment to think. It looked like he would be without John, for the next few days at least. He found himself feeling an element of jealousy which surprised him. He'd never really thought about the option of having children...it had never appealed but maybe it was another thing he should give some thought to.

He closed his eyes and drifted down into his mind palace seeing all that morning's work circling around in his head. He had two cases now, but were they connected? He felt instinctively that they were but instinct was not enough he needed cold, hard facts. What did he know?

Young girl, in care, no known motive or history of violence. Appeared drugged but no evidence of toxins, signs of prior abuse.

Male, middle aged, no known occupation, verbal report of drug use, no known motivation. Appeared drugged, no toxin report known yet, no criminal history known, signs of abuse could be self-inflicted.

And Mary, Mary was in the mix somehow but he didn't know how. There was something there...some link...some tie with Moriarty. Damn that man, would he never be rid of him!

He brought his mind back to the present; he needed to know more about the man; that was his priority. He opened his eyes surprised to see Molly sitting next to him working on some files. She glanced round as he shifted in his seat.

'Hey. You're back with us. I didn't like to disturb you, you seemed to be deep in thought.'

'Yes, ' he glanced at his watch, it was just after lunch. He last ate when he had had chips with Molly the night before so no need for food yet. He needed to contact Bill Wiggins again. He was his best hope for a lead on the murderer's whereabouts and if he had had no joy he could move onto Scotland Yard. They may have identified him through CCTV in the surrounding streets.

He pulled out his phone, searching though his contact list. Billy was one of the few of his network that he paid for a phone for. As he did that Molly spoke.

'Where's John then? He was here with you earlier.'

'Hmm...oh Mary's in labour so he left.'

'Oh my God. She's in labour! Why didn't you say? How was he? How was Mary? Did he say how long he thought it would be?'

'I didn't think it was relevant to anything. He seemed fine, a little pale, nervous. No doubt to be expected. He didn't say how Mary was but given his demeanour on the phone I would say she was angry with him. As for how long even I'm not that good at deductions. Billy...have you found anything further for me?'

He stood up and walked away from Molly as he spoke. She looked at his retreating back, listening as he fired question after question at the homeless lad who had been in earlier with that young girl. Molly had hated having to let her go but knew she would have run had she tried to stop her.

She let her mind drift back to Sherlock as he spoke and she smiled to herself. She was still finding it hard to believe they were in a relationship even now. She wondered if she would ever get used to it and if she would even be given the opportunity too. Even now she had doubts about how long this would last and whether he would suddenly revert back to his previous antipathy towards her.

She let her eyes trail covetously over his back remembering the feel of his skin under her hands as she had pulled his shirt from his trousers the night before. She even let her glance fall to his backside which looked so good in his tailored trousers. She so rarely let herself openly admire him. He was so observant and it would have been humiliating to have been caught out...but not anymore.

He turned back and caught her stare. She felt herself colour immediately but she held his gaze and bit her lip as she smiled at him. The look he bestowed on her had her hoping for more time with him later. She wouldn't just pull his shirt from his trousers next time, she'd remove it completely.

 **If it were me I'd have stripped him the first time around :). How about you?**


	11. Chapter 11

**It's the weekend! Yay! I have plans to chill out and write, maybe with the odd glass of wsine thrown in for good measure. I hope you all have a great weekend too.**

 **Chapter 11**

It rather amused Sherlock to see Molly openly checking him out for once. There had been many a time in the past he'd caught her secretly eying him up but she'd never been so open about it. He found he rather liked it. As he finished his call to Billy he held her gaze watching the blush spread over her cheeks but when she bit her lip he found himself wanting to do so much more to her.

He made his way over and she turned on her stool to face him so she was leaning back on the table. He slotted himself between her slim legs and brought his hand up to cup her face using his thumb to pull her lip from between her teeth. 'If anyone's going to bite your lip Molly Hooper it should be me.'

He bent his head until his face was just under an inch from hers. He felt her lean up to him her mouth open and ready to be kissed. He was tempted, so tempted but he didn't let her kiss him. 'Not yet Molly, not yet.' He could feel her breath on his face, the smell of her arousal faint but recognisable causing his own body to react in response. Her eyes were fully dilated and he knew if he glanced down her nipples would be erect and pressing against the material of her top.

If he kissed her now he would be lost and he needed to stay focused and concentrate on the case. There would be time for them later.

He pulled back, standing upright, breathing hard from the effort of not kissing her, not touching her further. 'Come to mine after work? I should be back around seven.'

She just nodded mutely and he turned, gathering up his coat and files before leaving the room without a backwards glance, he didn't trust himself to leave if he did.

MHMHMHMHMHMHMHMHMH

Molly sat for a moment letting her heart rate reduce back to its normal pace. How could she be feeling so aroused when he hadn't actual done more than touch her face? No man, no previous boyfriend had ever turned her on the way Sherlock could. She hoped this wasn't a game to him, or a passing fancy as he had the capacity to ruin her for other men. How could she go back to what she had had before when she had experienced this?

As she turned back to her work she suddenly remembered what Sherlock had told her about John and Mary and she sent off a quick text to John to let him know that she was thinking of them both and to let her know if there was anything she could do to help. Not for the first time she wondered if she would ever have a child of her own but it was the first time she contemplated whether Sherlock would ever want them and not only that want them with her. Then she worried that hope could be a dangerous thing.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

Sherlock had been impressed with Billy's level of commitment. The lad was bright, almost to a Holmes level although he lacked finesse. He had already spoken to some of the killer's known associates and he had a good idea where they might find him. Sherlock had texted the details to Lestrade and was on his way to meet them.

As he sat in the cab he contemplated how things were progressing with Molly. He was amazed how easy it all felt. He had always thought that caring for someone and being in a relationship would be detrimental to his work but Molly was different, she was already part of his life and his work so taking things further with her didn't seem to be anything other than a positive move. He wondered if he was ready to take things further with her. Physically he knew he was, he was a man after all, he had always wanted physical pleasures just like anyone else. It was on an emotional level that he had been concerned about but maybe that was diminishing.

When the cab arrived at the disused warehouse on the edge of the Thames the arrest was already underway. He paid the cabbie and climbed out to find Billy watching the police bring out a man who matched the description he'd given Sherlock earlier that day.

'Hey Shezza...' He rolled his eyes at Sherlock disapproving glare, 'alright, alright Mr 'Olmes. Police got 'ere about ten minutes ago. Your mate's just done the arrest. Bob hasn't tried to run or anything, he's just denyin' all knowledge of it.' He frowned and turned to Sherlock looking a little nervous, 'are they gonna need me to make a statement?'

Sherlock assessed him, knowing his past problems with the police and his desire to keep a low profile. 'No, there should be enough other evidence. I haven't mentioned you by name.' He hesitated a moment as he took some cash out of his wallet. 'You did well today. I'll be in touch if I need anything further.'

Billy took the cash and within seconds had disappeared into one of the alleyways at the side of the docks.

Sherlock held back from approaching Lestrade until the homeless man had been put into one of the police cars.

'Gavin, what have you got for me?'

'Bloody hell Sherlock, once...just once you could get my name right.'

Sherlock just look at him in confusion.

Lestrade rolled his eyes but carried on. 'He was here just like you said he would be. He says he knows nothing about the event and that he had a blackout earlier but we'll know more when we've interviewed him. We'll need forensics to examine his clothes as well. He's covered in blood but appears to be uninjured himself. We shouldn't need you for the interviews but you're welcome to sit in if you want.'

Sherlock thought for a moment. 'I'll watch the first half through the glass but I want him fully restrained before I come in and ask him anything.'

Now it was Lestrade's turn to look surprised. 'What? Are you thinking this might be like that girl? I hadn't considered there being any connection...I mean, what links could they possibly have?'

Sherlock huffed and narrowed his eyes. 'I'm not sure...not yet but there is a connection. We just have to find it.'

Three hours later and Sherlock was bored. He'd been sat behind the two way mirror for the last hour getting increasingly frustrated as Lestrade asked every irrelevant question that popped into his tiny mind. No wonder the police force rarely caught and convicted anyone when they couldn't even ask a single pertinent question. Had Lestrade seen nothing at the crime site? He knocked on the glass and saw the three occupants of the room turn to look at him before Lestrade halted the interview and came to get him.

'Bloody hell Sherlock. You know you're not supposed to do that. I'm out on a limb letting you come and sit in as it is.'

'Double-check his cuffs and then I'll join you.'

He watched at the door as Lestrade checked the handcuffs behind the man's back and that they were still attached to the chair that he sat in. Then he nodded to Sherlock who made his way into the room.

He sat down watching the man closely. He could see the obvious signs of his drug addiction, his life in the streets but there was something else. Billy was right, his clothes didn't match the image. He had support, maybe a family member who he could turn to when he was desperate who would clothe and feed him. He didn't look particularly scared, more confused but didn't seem overly affected by Sherlock coming into the room.

Lestrade introduced him for the tape and then turned waiting for Sherlock's first question.

'What made you...'

The change was immediate. Just like the girl had a day before his eyes took on that glazed, unfocused look. He turned to Sherlock and in a low guttural voice said. 'He will skin you.' Then he brought his head down fast onto the desk. His nose exploded in a sickening crunch of bone and the man screamed but continued to pound his skull onto the table as though he were trying to smash his own brains out.

This time they were more prepared and Sherlock and Lestrade immediately moved to restrain him, amazed by how strong he was for such a slight build. He thrashed about trying desperately to pull free of them and eventually a doctor had to be called to administer a sedative before they could even begin to worry about assessing his injuries.

An hour later Lestrade found Sherlock in HIS office leaning back in HIS chair with his feet up on HIS desk. He leant on the door jam. 'It's no good we're going to have to section him and have him taken to a secure facility.'

Sherlock was more shaken than he was letting on. He was starting to get a horrified feeling that he knew what was going on and he didn't want to believe it. 'Can we take a blood sample from him? I need to check him for any drugs or toxins. I want to do comparisons against the girl from yesterday.'

Lestrade passed some instructions on and confirmed that a sample would be sent over to Barts for Sherlock to work on. Sherlock collected his coat and walked out of the building feeling the need for a cigarette for the first time since his exile was repealed. As he walked to a nearby newsagents to purchase them he thought through his options.

He decided to return to Baker St. He needed to do some research and confirm his suspicions. The blood tests could wait until the following day, he was fairly sure he knew what the outcome would be. Yes, there would be signs of heroin or cocaine in his system but as a drug addict that was to be expected but he doubted there would be anything more unusual than that.

He lit his first cigarette and enjoyed the buzz of nicotine in his brain. If he was right in his deduction they had a massive problem and he would need to liaise with his brother whom he suspected already knew all about what was going on.

His phone vibrated in his pocket and he pulled it out. It was a text from John.

 **Mary gave birth to our daughter twenty minutes ago, weighing 7lbs 6oz. Both doing well. We should be back home tomorrow but maybe leave it a couple of days before visiting. Be in touch soon. John**

He couldn't help but smile at the good news sending back an obligatory congratulation text. He was pleased for his best friend, happy that everything had gone smoothly and that the baby and Mary were both well.

As he thought that his face fell, his brain working through all the information he had gathered about Mary and it all fell into place. He had wondered if she were connected in some way and now he had no doubts, no doubts at all. Instead he was more worried than he had ever been before.

 **He's deduced it...but have you? All will be revealed...in every sense of the word, soon, very soon!**


	12. Chapter 12

**So I may have got a little distracted watching Ben at the tennis today but Lil has called me to task and told me to get my ass in gear and post an updates so here it is. I hope you enjoy it half as much as I enjoyed the tennis.**

 **Oh and I should mention the M rating is now not just for violence ;).**

 **Chapter 12**

Molly was excited for the evening ahead. She had made sure to get out of work on time so she had plenty of time to go home, shower and change before her evening with Sherlock. It felt as though this was their first proper date although she knew he probably wouldn't be viewing it like that.

She had even prepared a pasta bake that she could just throw in the oven at Sherlock's rather than having to have another take away. They were no good on her waistline and she was suddenly feeling a little self-conscious about her figure knowing that at some point in the near future she might be revealing a bit more of it to Mr Frighteningly Observant.

Just before seven she treated herself to a taxi over to Baker St. She'd even take the precaution of using a slightly larger bag so that she could pack some emergency overnight provisions...just in case.

She felt her heart thumping in her chest as she got nearer, that familiar sensation of nerves, wondering what the night ahead would hold in store for her.

The street was icy and slippery when she arrived; the cold setting in once more with a forecast of snow for later in the night. Molly carefully extracted herself from the taxi carrying her dish with the pasta and praying she wouldn't fall over. That really would be Sod's law.

Mrs Hudson answered the door promptly and ushered Molly in from the cold.

'You look nice Molly dear, is he expecting you?'

'Thanks and yes.'

'You go on up then. He's definitely up there, came back a couple of hours back. There's a nice fire going as well, should warm you right up.'

Molly made her way up the stairs and into Sherlock's flat to find the place a mess. There were papers everywhere, some up on the wall behind his settee, others spread over the floor and the coffee table.

Sherlock looked up from his laptop and she entered and frowned as though he had no idea what she was doing there. Molly felt all her excitement of a few moments ago fizzle away.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

Sherlock had heard the doorbell go but just ignored it. Mrs Hudson was in and she would field any visitors. She knew he was involved in a case and wouldn't want disturbing. He was feeling somewhat exhilarated. The more he delved into his research the more convinced he was that he was right. He was starting to build up profiles in his mind, possible signs he could look for.

He looked up when he heard a noise in the doorway of his flat to see Molly stood there looking around at his notes. Within seconds he had taken in her appearance. She was dressed up but not too much so, a new woolen jumper with a short skirt, boots and tights, no... stockings so open to the idea of them having sex. She was carrying a ceramic pot so far, so obvious, she was using the age old tradition of a way to a man's heart is through his stomach. She shouldn't have bothered that wasn't necessary for him. She was carrying a larger bag than normal, probably so she could bring toothbrush, change of clothing in case she stayed over.

He had to take a moment to remember that he'd actually invited her to come over and as he did he saw her face fall as she realised he had forgotten.

He stood quickly. 'Molly, come in. Ignore the papers, just working on the case. You can put the meal in the oven to warm and your overnight things in my room. I think there might be a bottle of wine in the fridge. I should be free in a minute.'

'Oh...OK, are you sure? I mean if you're too busy we can do this another time.'

'No, don't worry. It will be far more conducive to talk to you than the skull. I always think better when I talk aloud.' He turned his attention back to his screen wondering how long it would be before his brother realised he had hacked into the MI5 database.

A moment later his phone rang, his brother's security was getting better it seemed.

'Brother mine, you know you could just ask if you needed information.'

'I know, but where would the fun be in that.'

'You are accessing some very classified files. Do you want to tell me why?'

'Not particularly but I'm thinking brother, that you are up to your neck in what has been going on the last few days. Maybe you should come over and we can discuss it.'

'Well I would but I wouldn't want to be the third wheel at your date night with Ms Hooper. Shall we say tomorrow at ten instead?'

Sherlock closed his eyes and pursed his lips, damn his brother and his unending surveillance. 'Fine, tomorrow.' He hung up without saying goodbye knowing how much it would irritate Mycroft. He threw his phone down and brushed his hand over his face and through his hair.

He felt restless, he'd gathered as much information as he could for now and he needed to order his thoughts but he could do that later. He sat back in his chair and watched Molly as she moved around the kitchen. She'd hung up her coat and scarf and was currently bending over trying to work out how his oven worked and giving him a delectable view of her backside.

He licked his lips feeling a burst of lust which went straight to his groin. Maybe there WAS time for a little distraction. He quietly made his way over. She had moved to one side now and was taking out a bag of salad, no doubt to go with whatever meal she had prepared. Sherlock felt hungry but it wasn't for food.

As he came up behind her she finally realised his presence, jumping a little in surprise. 'Oh God Sherlock, you scared the life out of me creeping around like that.'

He didn't answer; instead he put one arm around her waist and pulled her against him. His other hand went to the back of her head helping to tilt her head so he could kiss her. He wasn't sure where it was coming from but he felt overwhelmed with desire for her. Within seconds his tongue was in her mouth and he could hear her moaning which just triggered more reaction from him. He wanted her, more than anything else he wanted her and he didn't want to wait a moment longer.

In was easy to lift her so she was sat on the counter of his kitchen and he moved between her thighs pulling her against him so she could feel how hard he was for her. Her hands had quickly gone from his back to his backside as she pulled him closer. He felt as though something had taken over his body. All his control seemed to have vanished and he was just giving himself over to physical desires...but God she felt good.

He broke off for a moment to pull her jumper over her head and he could feel her hands working on the buttons of his shirt as he took a moment to view her chest. Yes, she had small breasts but they were perfectly symmetrical...he liked that. He undid her bra and pulled it down her arms before throwing it behind him, onto the kitchen table. Then he helped her remove his shirt and dressing gown; letting them fall to the floor. The feeling of her hands on his skin made him wonder why he had ever given up sex in the first place.

He palmed one breast whilst he nipped and sucked on the other. The sensation of rolling his tongue around her nipple went straight to his cock and he felt hard to the point of uncomfortable and when he felt Molly's hand cup his erection he groaned and bucked against her instinctively.

He knew that he wasn't going to last long. It had been too many years and he was so out of practice but he was determined that Molly would gain some pleasure from the experience. As he licked and kissed his way back up to her mouth he rucked up her skirt and slid his hands up her thighs.

When he pressed his fingers against her she felt damp, her pants already slick with her moisture. He moved them to one side and rubbed his hand against her quim. 'God Molly, I love how wet you are for me.' He breathed the words against her neck before he sucked on the skin below her ear. 'I want to hear you come, I want to hear you crying my name knowing its me that will be fucking you. Do you understand?'

She almost whimpered as she nodded before letting out a long low moan as his fingers breached her entrance. She felt so warm and tight as he slowly pushed two fingers inside her, his thumb moving to her clit. He could feel his cock pulsing and he ached to be in her...but not yet, he needed to prepare her first, he would not be a disappointment.

Her hands were gripping his back, her legs hooked over his hips and he pushed himself against his hand adding pressure and feeling her start to unravel. It was time.

He removed his hand and let her watch as he licked his fingers clean. Her eyes were so dilated that they looked as though they were black, her mouth was open and her cheeks were flushed. He had never seen her look more beautiful.

He quickly opened his trousers and pushed them down and out of the way, just enough to release his aching manhood. He gripped himself, knowing that he was already leaking, and positioned himself so he could slowly push into her welcome warmth.

He could hear her letting out an 'ohgodohgodohgod' as he started to slide into her; could feel her hands pulling him in further until he was in as far as he could go. He started to move within her, setting a slow pace of thrusts as he reacclimatised with the sensation of fucking someone; she felt amazing. Within a few minutes he could feel his climax starting, his cock pulsing inside her. He wanted to hold off, to make the moment last but as he withdrew and plunged back in he felt her start to pulsate around him and he knew he was lost.

Vaguely he heard her cry out his name as her orgasm took over and he felt his balls tighten and his mind start to white out as he pumped his seed deep inside her. The primal need to get as far into her as he possibly could taking over. It felt so good, so amazingly good, better than any high he'd ever had.

For a few moments they just held onto each other, breathing heavily with Sherlock still pulsing inside her every so often. Gradually he came back to himself, realising they had never actually made it out of the kitchen and wondering if she would have preferred their first time to be in the bedroom.

He asked her as much and she chuckled before kissing him, her legs still locked around his waist keeping him inside her even though he was no longer hard. 'I don't care where our first time took place, I'm just glad it did.' She suddenly looked nervous, 'how was it for you?'

'Fine Molly, more than fine. And no, before you fret I wasn't a virgin.'

'I didn't think you were after that display. I don't think anyone has ever made me come that fast.'

He couldn't help the swell of pride at her words, finally helping her down off the side so she could go and clean up in the bathroom.

She picked up her jumper as she went but made no other move to put it on. 'Oh you might want to take the pasta bake out, it should be done by now.' She smiled at him cheekily, still topless, before turning and entering the bathroom.

Sherlock leant against the counter and zipped up his trousers. The pasta might be the main course but he knew exactly what he wanted for dessert.

 **I know there are still issues around the things he hasn't told her, but this is Sherlock and he doesn't always do things right but I hope you agree it was the right time for them. Let me know if you like it.**


	13. Chapter 13

**So are you guys ready to hear what's going on? Well you're in luck because we have the big reveal...hope you like it. It is all fully researched and the information Sherlock gives to Molly is all out there in the public domain so be afraid...be very afraid :). Anyway I'd love to know what you think.**

 **Chapter 13**

Molly closed the door of the bathroom and looked at herself in the mirror before letting out a slight giggle. Well, that had certainly moved a bit faster than she had expected, not that she had a single regret. She felt as though the last few days had been a roller coaster, was it really only three days ago that she had thought she didn't stand a chance with Sherlock...ever, and now here she was cleaning herself up after a short but very satisfying bout of sex.

By the time she came out of the bathroom Sherlock had thrown some of the salad onto plates and was dishing up the pasta. He'd put his shirt back on but it was hanging loose and open giving her a fine view of his chest. She couldn't wait to get her hands on it again and vowed that next time she'd take her time.

He glanced up and smiled handing her her plate. 'I'm not sure how hygienic the kitchen table is, I thought we could eat sitting on the settee?'

'Sounds good to me, I'm starving. Something seems to have given me an appetite.' They exchanged knowing glances and made their way back into the front room carrying their wine and food. Sherlock swept away some of the print outs on the settee dumping them onto the floor.

As she sat down Molly looked around. 'So what is all this stuff then?'

Sherlock had to wait a moment as he chewed his food before he could respond. 'It's a breakthrough Molly. I know the what; I'm just not clear on the how or the who. Have you ever heard of MKUltra or Monarch Programming?'

Molly shook her head before taking another bite of her food. She didn't know if it was the sex or the cooking but the pasta tasted delicious.

'How about the Manchurian Candidate?'

'Oh, yes I've seen that. It was a film about some guy being brain washed to kill the president in America...yes?'

'That's the one.'

'So what...you think these people have been programmed, brain-washed? Don't be ridiculous...I mean that can't actually happen can it?'

He looked around the papers on the floor before handing her one. It was a print out of something called Project MKUltra. She looked back up as Sherlock started talking.

'It was started officially in the 1950's though much of the research came from Germany soon after World War II. Operation Paperclip was the bringing of German scientists to the US to carry on their work whether that was rockets or mind control.

'It was run by the CIA and had many different strands. Some, like Project Chatter, looked at the use of drugs such as LSD, others, Projects Bluebird, Artichoke and MKUltra looked at mind control and behaviour modification. There were areas looking at sensory deprivation, isolation. Still others used torture and sexual abuse to break down the will and the personality of the subject.

'The projects were officially shut down in 1973 and all of the files were supposedly destroyed. But what if it didn't end Molly? What if it just went further underground? What government wouldn't want to continue developing the perfect soldier, the perfect workforce, the perfect populous? Just think, people who do what they're told, when they're told...no questions asked, no rebellion. Can you see them giving up on it?'

Molly was both fascinated and horrified in equal measure. 'I can't believe a government would want to do something like this. Is it just the Americans?'

Sherlock deposited his empty plate onto the coffee table and picked up the wine pouring out two glasses for them. 'There are paper trails from the CIA to the UK. Both St Thomas' Hospital in London and Belmont Hospital in Surrey were part of MKUltra. They were both looking at different types of behaviour modification.'

Molly felt as though she had suddenly lost her appetite. Could this really be happening in today's day and age? Could people really be programmed and forced to kill others and themselves because someone ordered them too?

Sherlock carried on. 'What worries me the most is these cases don't seem to be linked to a particular government. They're linked to Moriarty and his criminal organisation. How the hell were they given access to that kind of information? I have found links though; two years ago in the video of Moriarty at the Tower of London, the spray that he used to knock out the guards...that can be directly traced back to the drug development in MKUltra.'

'And Molly...'

She looked nervously at him, sensing the shift in the tone of his voice, 'Mary was part of the CIA for over ten years.'

They both sat in silence contemplating the implications of that statement.

Finally Molly had to ask. 'Do you think she knows about these people?'

Sherlock shook his head. 'No, I don't think she does. I think she's completely oblivious to it. But more than that, I think she is one of them.'

He continued, leaning forward in his excitement, not seeing Molly's look of horror. 'It all makes sense you see. She has no background, from what I've found out about her she was an orphan, picked out and trained from an early age to be an assassin. Her skills are about the finest I've ever seen but come on, personality-wise does she strike you as a cold-blooded killer? Why would she kill people she doesn't know and without question? The only explanation is that her programming is triggered. She ends up knowing what she's done but not really thinking about the why. The only time it weakened was when she shot me. Her own feelings and morals for once overrode her programming; just enough that she shifted her aim slightly and didn't carry out a second kill shot.'

'As soon as she'd knocked out Magnussen she came out of her trance and called the ambulance, knowing she'd shot me but not thinking about why. I was just a distraction to her main target and she had been trained to kill distractions.'

Molly was starting to understand and believe what he was saying. 'But she's not part of the CIA now is she? So who is she working for?'

His voice when he answered was flat and angry. 'I don't know for sure, but I suspect they're all part of Moriarty's web. I'm hoping Mycroft might have some answers for me when I see him tomorrow. A criminal organisation cannot have this level of technology without the governments either having given it to them or knowing about it.'

Molly finished her drink and sat forward in the settee. 'It sounds like you have a lot to do still. Maybe I should go and leave you to it.'

Sherlock frowned and then shook his head giving her a slow smile. 'Oh no, I don't think so. You just whetted my appetite earlier and now I want my dessert.'

Molly blushed and felt herself squirm as a spike of lust went straight to her centre. Did he have to look so goddamn sexy leaning back on the settee with his shirt still open looking at her like that?

She acted purely on instinct when she slid into her knees in front of him. Kneeling up she let her hands glide slowly up his gorgeous thighs before leaning forwards and pressing a kiss to the scar in the centre of his chest. She felt a hum of satisfaction from him under her lips and she smoothed her hands over his waist feeling the heat of his body as she kissed her way across his chest until she reached one of his flat nipples.

She bit down lightly on it before letting her tongue slide over it, feeling it harden. She repeated the same on the other side enjoying the way that he was holding her head to his chest, his hands tangling in her hair.

Still taking her time she kissed her way down his body over his flat abdomen, feeling the hard muscles just beneath the surface of his skin. When she reached the waistband of his trousers she sat back on her heels as she undid the fastenings. She couldn't resist glancing up at him to find him looking directly at her, his eyes half open and dilated, his teeth biting his lower lip as he watched her knowing what she was about to do.

He helped her shift his trousers down a bit until she was able to take hold of him in her small grasp. He was big and hard and she couldn't wait to taste him. She licked her lips and then swirled her tongue around the head of his cock hearing him groan with desire as she did; tasting their previous coupling on his skin. It seemed both dirty and erotic at the same time and she knew she was already getting wet for him again.

She pulled back for a moment seeing her saliva glistening on his swollen glans. Slowly she stroked him a couple of times watching his foreskin bunch and then slide away, hearing his breath catch as she did.

When she leant forward again she took him completely into her mouth bobbing her head as she took him deeper, her hand wrapped around the base. She heard him groan and felt his hands tighten in her hair as his hips gradually started bucking up towards her.

She knew he must be close but before she could finish he pulled away sitting upright and breathing heavily. She rocked back on her heels and looked up at him as she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. 'What's wrong?'

He shook his head. 'Nothing...nothing's wrong. God, you are too good at that. I just...I want to go slower.'

He stood up, hitching his trousers back up before holding his hand out to pull Molly to her feet then he put his arms around her shoulder and swept her legs out from under her before carrying her through to his bedroom enjoying her giggles at his out of character actions.

When they got to his bed he threw her on it watching as she bounced lightly still smiling happily, her joy made him smile in return as he quickly removed his clothes. Molly did the same throwing off her jumper to reveal she was still bra less and shuffling out of her skirt and pants. He stopped her when she started to take off her stockings, 'no, leave them. I like them.' Then he joined her on the bed kissing his way up her left leg from the ankle to her inner thigh. When his mouth finally touched her skin above the stocking top Molly shivered with desire feeling her nerves connecting straight to her core.

He slowed his ascent using his hands to spread her legs before placing an open mouth kiss directly onto her clit. Her hips bucked up at his actions and he used one hand to hold her down conscious that the span of it reached from one of her hips to the other. She made him feel something he hadn't really felt before; masculine and proprietorial. He wanted her to be his and no one else's.

His tongue delved into her depths, tasting her and feeling her squirm beneath him. He loved how responsive she was and how vocal. She didn't temper her moans or her pleas to a God that wasn't there. The way she said his name had his cock twitching beneath him desperate to plunge into her but he was determined to make this coupling last. He didn't want her to think he was prone to premature ejaculations. He hadn't been able to help it last time, it had been the first time he'd had sex in a decade but he was damned if he was going to continue in that vein.

He moved his tongue back to her clit and slid two fingers inside her sensing that she was close. He was right, within a couple of thrusts he felt her muscles tightening around him and heard her call out his name as her hand caught his hair tugging it delightfully. He found himself rutting against the sheets desperate to join with her.

As she started to recover he moved up her body before stopping at her breasts; biting and sucking each of them in turn. His hips were already rocking against her and he could feel her warmth; his cock seeking it out. He couldn't bear it any longer and he brought himself level with her face. As they kissed he felt her legs on his waist and her hand guiding him inside her. He knew in that moment as he pushed forwards that he would never tire of sex with Molly.

He kept his pace painfully slow wanting and needing her to come again, concentrating on making sure his angle hit all those points that would bring her to climax again. His cock ached with need and he knew he was leaking cum inside her, lubricating her still further. Bit by bit his pace increased and his thrusts grew stronger. As he withdrew he left her body completely before plunging back in, the sensation of cold and heat making his brain buzz and his thoughts narrow down to one thing; joining with Molly Hooper and making her his.

It wasn't enough though he knew she needed more. Quickly he withdrew before turning her over. He brought her hips up before plunging back into her from behind hearing her loud cry and feeling her body start to shudder under him. He brought his hand round and ground his fingers against her clit as he fucked her feeling his orgasm start to overtake him as she cried out his name, her cunt convulsing around him pulling his come from him as he pumped it into her. That...that was more like it.

Molly collapsed underneath him and he moved to take some of his weight onto his arms so he didn't crush her. He kissed the base of her neck seeing her lips crook up into a tired but very satisfied smile.

 **So, I know you've probably forgotten the case already but as I said at the start all the facts I mentioned about the CIA projects etc are all true and full details are readily available on the internet so if you want to investigate further you can.**

 **I'd love to know what you think of the mind control premise but if you'd rather just talk about the sex I'm up for that too :).**


	14. Chapter 14

**Just wanted to say congratulations to the Sherlock crew for the Emmy nominations, fingers crossed that they win them. And I'm still enjoying some of the setlock pics, can't wait to see what they have in store for us. Last but not least thank you to all those who follw, favourite and review…you keep me sane and motivated!**

 **Chapter 14**

In the end he found Molly one of his t shirts to wear and kissing her forehead he told her to get some sleep, she looked exhausted. He on the other hand felt exhilarated and bursting with energy and ideas. He threw on some pyjamas and a dressing gown and made his way back into the front room eager to carry on his research. He found he had lots of new ideas that he wanted to follow up.

He spent most of the night at his laptop before falling into a deep sleep on his couch in the early hours.

MHMHMHMHMHMHMHMHMH

When Molly woke up it was to find herself alone in Sherlock's bed. She stretched out enjoying the sheer size of the bed, she'd never slept in a king size before but she loved it. Both his mattress and his sheets were obviously expensive and Molly decided then and there that they were absolutely worth it. She'd slept like a log all night and felt completely refreshed.

She could hear Sherlock playing bits and pieces on his violin in the front room and decided to join him. She padded her way out tugging on his t shirt knowing that it was only just covering her bum but not feeling too self-conscious. After all how could she be self-conscious when she'd had sex with him...twice. She wondered if she couldn't just persuade him to come back to bed with her.

He had his back to her so she wrapped her hands around his chest and stood on her tiptoes to kiss his neck. She felt him start in surprise and immediately stop playing as he started to turn towards her. What she hadn't expected was the look of shock on his face. Just then someone cleared their throat a few feet away from her making every muscle in her body tense up.

'Good morning Doctor Hooper, I wasn't aware that you were still here. How very remiss of my men for not telling me?'

Molly closed her eyes and took a deep breath before turning to Mycroft who was sat on the settee leaning back with one ankle crossed casually across his knee.

'Mister Holmes...sorry, I didn't know you were here. I'll just...um...get dressed. Sorry.' She glanced at Sherlock, who was just glaring at a smirking Mycroft, before she darted back to the bedroom swearing to herself under her breath.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

Sherlock watched her go before turning to his brother pointing his bow in his direction.

'Drop it Mycroft, I don't want to hear your derogatory and bitter comments about my love life.'

'So it's love then is it Sherlock? You surprise me, I didn't peg you as a mere mortal idiot driven around by hormones and needs.'

'Maybe if you'd ever tried those mortal needs you'd think differently, anyway enough of this. I want to know what you know about mind control. And don't tell me it's not still going on because it's painfully obvious that it is.'

'Why don't you tell me what you know first and I'll fill in the gaps, so much simpler don't you think? Or has sex with Ms Hooper started rotting your brain already...because it will Sherlock, it will.'

He ignored the last comment and, after putting his violin down, he walked round to stand in front of the fire leaning against the mantelpiece with one hand.

'I know that the video was a trigger to wake up Moriarty's sleeping agents. I know that they are targeting me for some reason. I also know that there will be more but what I don't know is how the hell a criminal organisation got its hands on such a powerful weapon.' By the end he was almost shouting in his anger against his brother.

Mycroft took a deep breath in through his nose. 'Not everything is about you Sherlock, though you always think it is. And there are more things going on in the world at the moment that you can even envisage. You're a small cog in a much bigger picture. But you've never wanted to hear that have you...no, you wanted to go your own way so forgive me if I don't include you in some of the global decision making that takes place.'

He continued. 'Moriarty wasn't just a criminal he was a genius and as you may have noticed there are scant few of us around. As such he was in demand, not just by the underworld but by governments wanting to buy his expertise to give them an advantage.'

Sherlock walked over to where his brother sat. 'So you sold us out. You gave that man technology that could wreak havoc.'

Mycroft stood and picked up his umbrella. 'Must you always think the worst of me Sherlock. Will it ever end, this animosity between us? No, I did not sell out my country. I refused and had to watch from the sidelines as he made the deal with America instead, though it could have been so much worse. He was even given a programmed CIA agent as a gesture of good will and I'm sure you've already figured out who that is.'

He walked to the door brushing past his younger brother in the process. 'Now if you'll excuse me I have actual work to do.'

It was just at that point that Molly came back out of the bedroom and shyly rejoined the two brothers in the front room immediately sensing the tension between them. She tried to break it by stepping forward towards Mycroft. 'I'm sorry about earlier, I didn't realise you were here. Would you like some tea or coffee?'

'No, thank you Doctor Hooper.'

'Please call me Molly.'

He inclined his head and turned back to his brother. 'It appears that sending you on a suicide mission had much more serious implications for you than either of us realised. Good day, Sherlock...Molly.'

With that he left. Sherlock made his way back to the window and watched until he saw his brother get into the sleek, black Mercedes waiting for him at the kerb. He turned back angrily to find Molly looking at him in confusion.

'What did he mean?'

Sherlock had an uncomfortable feeling that he knew what she was referring to but he procrastinated, picking up his coffee and taking a swig ignoring that it was now cold, 'about what exactly?'

Molly took a step towards him. 'About the suicide mission. What suicide mission?' She inhaled quickly and he knew she'd pieced it together herself. 'The trip you were going to take after Christmas, the one you were called back from.'

She was silent for a moment knowing that his lack of an answer was confirmation that she was right. 'Did you know? When you got on that plane did you know that you would die on that mission?'

He turned away not wanting to see the look of pain on her face.

She tugged on his arm, 'dammit Sherlock did you know?'

'Yes, yes I knew. Why do you think I couldn't come and say goodbye to you Molly? What could I have ever said? You would have seen, you would have known.'

'But why, why would they send you on something like that?'

'Because I killed a man.' The words came out much quieter than he intended and he watched as Molly sagged into John's old chair.

He made his way over and stood opposite her.

'It was that man wasn't it? The one whose case is still pinned on the wall of my spare bedroom. He was shot on Christmas Day at his home. Oh...that was you.' She put her hand over her mouth and he saw tears glistening in her eyes. He had to make her understand why he had done it.

He sat down on the edge of his seat leaning towards Molly wishing he could hold her hand or touch her in some way but she was as far away from him as she could get.

He walked her through the case as it had unfolded ending with himself and John on the steps of Appledore hearing the helicopters buzzing through the air towards them.

'I'd failed Molly, I'd got it all wrong and John, Mary and Mycroft were all going to suffer. I went through all the options and the repercussions and I couldn't let them play out...not knowing that it was I who had failed my friends. So, I took the only option open to me. I killed him.'

'Please don't kid yourself that it was the first time I've killed Molly because it wasn't. It was however the first time I had killed in cold blood and not as self-defense. I knew I'd have to accept the consequences, whatever they were. It was never a case that would come to trial...Mycroft did what he could but my stupidity had compromised him and he had no choice but to agree to me being sent on that mission. We both knew I'd be dead within six months...'

He looked up as he heard Molly gasp seeing the tears starting to spill over and down her cheeks.

'I could lie to John, I've always been able to lie to John. He knew it would be dangerous and there was a chance I wouldn't return...but I couldn't have lied to you. You would have known...you would have seen the truth in me, just as you always do.'

Finally she sat forwards and took his hands in hers. 'Is that why you have the nightmares?'

He almost...almost pulled away from her, wanting to shut down the discussion about his earlier life but he couldn't keep on lying to her, not even by omission.

'No, that's from something completely diff...' He turned his head away from her as his phone rang and couldn't help the small voice in his head which said _saved by the bell._

He stood and picking his mobile up from by his laptop he answered. 'What?'

MHMHMHMHMHMHMHMHMH

Molly watched as he talked to Lestrade on the phone. She felt in some ways as though she were seeing him for the first time, truly seeing him. She'd always known that his job was dangerous and that he had probably done violent things and would have had to kill people but it had never really been brought home to her in such a real way.

She remembered seeing the news report at New Year and pottering into her spare bedroom, seeing that it was the same face on her wall as on her television. She had known that whatever this man had done, he'd paid for it with his life but she had never once considered that it might have been Sherlock who had killed him.

But she had understood his reasoning. He'd given her all the details, what this man had done and what he was capable of...but Sherlock had killed him, shot him in the head, in cold blood. Could she live with that, was that the sort of man she could love?

Her answer was unequivocal and came back as a resounding yes! Maybe she was blinded by her emotions, maybe she was kidding herself but she didn't see Sherlock as a cold blooded killer, she saw him as an avenging angel.

She stood as he ended his call, knowing from his body language that he had to go but that he was unsure about leaving her given their current situation.

She walked up and stood on her tiptoes, her hands on his chest, and she kissed him. His hands came up to grip her hips and the kiss deepened and she could feel her body responding to him and wanting more even as she pulled away.

'You need to go, don't worry, I'll see you later. And Sherlock...I...I understand.'

He nodded his head once and then turned to his room to get dressed leaving Molly gathering her things. She needed to go home so she could shower and change for work. She knew she still had a lot to think about but at least she was clear on one thing, it didn't matter what Sherlock had done or what he would do she would always love him. She didn't know if that excited or terrified her.

 **The secrets are starting to be revealed but there's more to come. Hope you're still enjoying it.**


	15. Chapter 15

**Finally starting to get some summer weather in my small bit of the world though it's hot and muggy rather than sun bathing weather...ah well, I'll enjoy it regardless. Nice to not be Pokemon hunting in the rain at least.**

 **Chapter 15**

Sherlock found himself feeling somewhat happier for having revealed some of his secrets to Molly; he hadn't liked keeping so many things from both her and John even if he could justify the lies in his own mind.

He was also feeling a little more optimistic about the case; he now knew how these people were being controlled and how Moriarty had got the knowledge to do this. Now all that he needed to know was the end game and the scale of the operation. They had sacrificed two pawns and he couldn't believe they weren't valuable. From what he'd read and researched it took months, if not years of drugging and torture and abuse to break someone's will...the very core of their being, and then to rebuild them. They would not have given those two up lightly.

Memories from his own experiences of torture threatened to rise up at this point but he pushed them down, he couldn't afford to let his own weaknesses affect his abilities on this case. He moved his thoughts along to his conversation with Mycroft.

As always his older brother had both wound him up and humiliated him with his mockery of Sherlock's world view. Sherlock was not too proud to admit though that that meant something he had said had struck a truth that he didn't want to have to see. He needed to revisit that conversation but in the meantime he had work to do.

He needed Lestrade to re-interview the killer from the homeless shelter but that was easier said than done. He had been transferred to a specialist psychiatric prison and was still under sedation following his suicide attempt the day before. There was no way that Sherlock could interview him but he had a list of questions he wanted the Detective Inspector to ask and he also needed to investigate both his past and that of the girl.

They both matched the template for a Manchurian victim, as did Mary. Those best converted were either young, which meant they had to be unprotected; orphans and those in social care were perfect, no one looking out for them, a paperwork change here or there to make them effectively disappear from the system with no one to miss them.

If older, they needed to be vulnerable in some way, drug addicts, alcoholics, the mentally ill and again ideally no one to miss them.

What worried him was that there was no easy way to identify who was at risk. It was easy to rule out those with a fully documented past but even the best of people could have blind spots in their past that others didn't know about. He couldn't check everyone's history and both the candidates they knew of were so wholly unconnected to him and to each other. He needed to track down the centre; where this was taking place.

That place would need a decent amount of space; cells to keep people in, access to drugs, to torture equipment. It would need to be either sound proofed or remote as there would be noise, not least of which would be the screams of those being processed. His mind told him private country hospital, possibly in Surrey, not far from Gatwick. Both candidates had a connection there but it was tenuous. What he needed was a handler.

Every candidate had a handler, often this was the person who had broken their will but people did get transferred on to new handlers on occasion. They would ensure the candidate was still under control, they would re-enforce trigger words or symbols or whatever they were using. He had two strong avenues here. The interrogation of the homeless man was one and also Sherlock felt he should be able to work out who Mary's handler was and maybe then that would lead him to the centre.

He came out of his reverie as the cab pulled up outside Scotland Yard. He was still without John and it irritated him even as he chided himself. He was John's friend and he needed to fit in a visit to see the baby, not that babies did much to interest him, but this was John and for John he would suffer it.

The interview went much as Sherlock expected it would. Without his presence, he sat once again behind a two way mirror, the man had little recollection of what he had done or why. He was also going through withdrawal symptoms from the drugs and had periods of rambling incoherence and even times where he begged Lestrade for his freedom and/or drugs offering him everything from sexual favours to servitude. Sherlock found himself grimacing in disgust at the man's weak displays even as a small voice told him he had sometimes been in danger of being not much better.

The only clue the man offered up was a name and a description; Dave, his "mate" who would sometimes give him food and money. He wasn't clear about how he would make contact with Dave. It was the only time his eyes took on that slightly unfocused look but it was enough to tell Sherlock that this was the man's handler. He also mentioned that he would often meet him at London Bridge station which had a through train to Gatwick airport. Sherlock was convinced he needed to start his search in that area. Close to an airport would give them good transport links but also access to rural and isolated locations.

They spent the afternoon going through maps and property records trying to see if there were any sites that would be worth their while checking out.

By seven o'clock Lestrade threw in the towel and Sherlock reluctantly decided to go and visit John. He knew that Mary was already back home; the birth had been straightforward so there had been no need for her to stay in. He texted to say he was on his way and received a reply that they were expecting him.

When John answered the door Sherlock could immediately see all the signs of new parenthood. The bags under the eyes from nerves and lack of sleep over the birth, the delirious smile which showed the chemical bond which had formed between father and daughter as well as baby sick on John's right shoulder.

They shook hands and Sherlock congratulated John.

'Come in, come in. Time for you to meet your God-daughter. They're through here. Do you want a drink or anything...wet the baby's head?'

Sherlock didn't really fancy anything but he could sense the eagerness in John's voice. 'Why not, whatever you have.'

'I bought a single malt for the occasion, go on in and I'll get us both one. Mary...Sherlock's here.'

Sherlock hung up his coat and went into a room which resembled a bit of a bomb site; he'd seen tidier crime scenes. There were gifts and flowers all around the room; causing him to frown...should he have brought something? Plus there was a Moses basket by the settee and piles of small clothing and nappies and other similar effects of babyhood.

Mary started to stand but Sherlock immediately saw her exhaustion and put his hands out to indicate she should stay where she was. Instead he went and bent over her kissing her on the cheek. Again, he went through the motions of congratulating her even as his eye was caught by the small bundle wrapped up inside the Moses basket.

He halted in his progress of standing back up and instead turned and bent over the carrycot. The new baby was so small and so perfectly a blend of John and Mary that he found himself fascinated. He put out his finger to stroke her face but she caught it in one perfect little hand and he could feel her trying to pull it to her mouth which was opening and closing like a little goldfish.

Vaguely he heard John come in and the clink of two glasses as they were placed onto a wooden surface.

'Would you like to hold her?'

If he'd been asked that question ten minutes ago the answer would have been no but he knew he was mutely nodding his head before looking around for somewhere suitable to sit. He found himself strangely nervous as Mary patted the sofa next to her and gave him a cushion to put on his knee to help him to support the baby.

John picked up his daughter cooing sweet nothings to comfort her and then gently placed her in Sherlock's arms reminding him unnecessarily to be careful to support her head.

She looked up at him with John's eyes in that slightly unfocused way that babies do and once again he put his finger out for her to latch onto. He had not expected the emotions which flowed through him for this small child. He had never had anything to do with babies before. There was no extended family, no nieces or nephews for him to bond with. But sitting here with this new life in his arms and one physically connected to one of his closest acquaintances he found himself speechless. In his mind he vowed to protect her and keep her safe from harm and was already working out growth charts and intelligence tests for her.

'We've decided to call her Elizabeth...Lizzie for short. We toyed with Sherlock but then figured your ego was already too big.'

Sherlock made no response, at least not to John, instead he mouthed a quiet, 'hello Elizabeth,' to the baby who turned her head looking around the room before her eyes came back to him.

'I think our daughter may have won over the famously, cold-hearted detective. What do you think John?'

'I think I agree. Sherlock, you OK there mate? I don't think I've ever seen you so quiet outside of your mind palace.'

Sherlock finally looked at John, 'I swear John, I will do everything I can to keep you and your family safe.'

John finally seemed to sense the emotional turmoil within his friend and with a small smile he nodded his head. 'Yeah, I know you will mate. I know you will.'

At that point Lizzie started to squirm and grizzle and Sherlock reluctantly handed her over to Mary for comforting. John passed him his drink and the two of them clinked their glasses and raised a toast to the new baby.

'So, how are things going with Molly? Any sign of your own babies on the way?'

Sherlock frowned. 'Well we've engaged in intercourse but Molly is using protection. We would need to have a conversation about children before we embarked on making them.'

John nearly spat his drink out. 'I was joking...but maybe you're not. Do you think you'd want kids in the future? I...well I never pictured you in a relationship let alone as a dad.'

Sherlock took a sip of his drink and not for the first time in his life wondered if he had said too much. 'Well neither had I but I'm definitely in a relationship now so maybe I should think about it more. I'll be honest I never expected to connect with your daughter so quickly but...' He looked over at the baby now asleep in her mother's arms, 'I always miss something...'

Twenty minutes later and he was standing ready to leave but not before commenting on their gifts and taking a moment to look through some of the cards and the messages attached to flowers. One in particular from Mary's friend David caught his eye. He remembered his conversation with him just prior to the wedding and how eager the man had seemed to be about being a continuing part of Mary's life.

'Molly mentioned she would come round tomorrow afternoon if that's alright.' He looked over at Mary and smiled, 'maybe if she stayed a couple of hours you could spare John, I just have a couple of things I'd like his help with.'

Mary raised her eyebrows and smiled. 'Are you asking me nicely if John can come out and play?' She laughed as Sherlock's face fell into a confused frown. 'Yes, that'll be fine Sherlock. It will be good catching up with Molly especially in light of your change in relationship status.' She gave such a wicked smile that Sherlock couldn't help but feel nervous about female gossip for the first time in his life.

Finally, he bid them good night and made his way back to an empty flat in Baker St.

 **So the hunt is on for Mary's handler. Seriously though the scene where Sherlock intimidates David in the show never fails to bring a smile to my face.**


	16. Chapter 16

**Finally the summer holidays have arrived, kids have broken up today and I'm off work for a couple of weeks…happy days! Now if only the sun could just take it down a notch or two life would be perfect.**

 **Thank you to everyone who's supporting me with this fic. I really do cherish every review and they keep me motivated so please keep them coming.**

 **Chapter 16**

It was dark by the time Sherlock arrived home and he wished he had asked Molly to meet him at the flat. It was too late for him to bother with a fire and even though the central heating was on the place seemed unnaturally unwelcoming and empty. Even Mrs Hudson was out.

He found some beans in the back of a cupboard and opened the tin before eating them cold with a spoon. He couldn't even be bothered finding a bowl. He sat on his chair afterwards plucking away at his violin and staring into the dark.

The image of John's baby came easily into his mind and he recalled the look of tiredness and devotion on his friend's face. Was that really something he could or should have? He had seen his life as one of work and isolation. Everything had always revolved around the work whether it was his previous job or this one. He had never considered having a wife and children; a family of his own. He had to admit though that sitting here in a dark and lonely flat the picture was an attractive one. He imagined Molly sitting here with him; a baby in her arms and a toddler at his knee.

He opened his eyes and let the image wash away, none of it was even worth considering whilst this threat from Moriarty was still out there. At least now he had a new piece to the puzzle, Mary's old friend David Foster. Was this the same "Dave" that Bob, the homeless man, had talked about? The description matched but it had been fairly generic and could have covered at least a quarter of the men in London but it was more than possible that this was the person who was Mary's handler. He was one of the few people that Sherlock knew of that had known Mary before she met John. He had kept in regular touch with her, slightly less since the wedding but he was still there, in the background. He needed to do some more digging on him.

He pulled his laptop over and lost himself in the case and in research for the next couple of hours, only glancing up once when he heard Mrs Hudson return just after midnight. By two o'clock even he had had enough but not before he'd found a connection between David and Surrey, the plot was thickening.

He made his way to bed and was soon fast asleep. It was not, however, an untroubled sleep.

 _He was in that cell, where he always seemed to be. His naked back scraping painfully on the rough wooden table that he lay on. His brain felt as though it would explode. He had suffered what felt like days of bright light and noise forcing him awake and depriving him of sleep. They were shouting at him, asking him questions, always with the questions and he knew, he still knew he couldn't answer; he mustn't. People's lives depended on him keeping quiet._

 _This time when his eyes ranged over his captors he saw them laughing and shaking their heads at him mouthing words to him that Sherlock couldn't quite make out. Another glance round and they morphed into faces that he knew, Mycroft as the ring leader trying to tell him something that he didn't want to hear whilst other faces from his past and present all mocked him._

 _The table was tipped backwards so his head was lower than his feet and the weight of his body pulled at the straps binding his wrists and his ankles. They put the cloth over his face and he knew what was coming, taking a last gulp of rancid air. The water hitting his face and upper body was rank and icy cold and he couldn't breathe. He wanted too, he needed too but he just couldn't breathe. It seemed to go on forever and as he heard himself choking and gasping for air he retreated deeper and deeper into his mind and found comfort in the only thing he could think of...Redbeard._

He woke with a strangled gasp, sitting up and wiping the sweat from his face with a shaking hand. For a moment he balled his hands up and put them to his eyes as he fought with himself not to just cry. Would he never be free of these memories? He was so tired. Tired from this case, tired of the interrupted sleep and tired of reliving the worst moment of his life over and over. And why was Mycroft there in his dream this time, what connection was there between this case, Mycroft and his time in that cell? A dread feeling seemed to reach up to his throat from the pit of his stomach but he couldn't even bring himself to consider it, not now, not whilst he was tired and alone.

Without even giving it any thought he got up and dressed himself. He needed sleep and he needed Molly.

It was easy enough at that time of night to find an empty cab and he promised the driver double if he could get him there within ten minutes. The driver duly obliged, breaking the speed limit without any qualms and Sherlock soon found himself breaking into his pathologist's apartment. It was dark and quiet inside as he made his way through to her bedroom. He hadn't given much thought to the ethics of what he was doing and even if he had it wouldn't have stopped him.

Once in her room he shed his clothes, down to his shorts and slid under the covers rolling his eyes at the fact she hadn't once noticed his presence, thankful that he wasn't there for more nefarious purposes.

As he settled into the bed next to her she made a soft sighing noise before rolling over and sliding her leg and arm over him. That single connection with another human being was all that he needed to drift off into a completely peaceful and dreamless sleep.

MHMHMHMHMHMHMHMHMH

It didn't take Molly long in the morning to realise that she wasn't alone in the bed. She rose up into consciousness aware that she had her arm over someone's chest and she could hear and feel their inhale and exhale of breath. She knew immediately that it was Sherlock, she recognised his smell, the very essence of him mixed with the remains of his cologne. Slowly she smiled before pressing a kiss to his shoulder.

He merely grunted and rolled over and as she had no idea what time he had come to bed she decided to let him sleep. She didn't have work today so there was no rush for her to be up and out of the flat. She lay for a moment just enjoying the sheer oddness of waking up in bed with him.

She glanced over seeing the outline of his shoulders and his back in the grey light of the bedroom. It was so utterly tempting to reach over and let her fingers trace down his spine but she resisted. Instead she careful rolled out of bed and pulled on a dressing gown before easing out through the door. Then she set about going to the bathroom and making her morning coffee.

Toby wound his way around her ankle as she did, mewing for his morning feed and she bent down and scritched his head hearing his mewing turn to a purr. 'Hey you, looks like we have a visitor this morning. Be on your best behaviour now and no claws.'

She pottered into the front room and curled up to enjoy the news and her cuppa.

About forty minutes later she glanced up from her iPad as she heard Sherlock leaving the bedroom to go to the bathroom, she smiled at him loving how disheveled he looked in the mornings and wishing it didn't make him look quite so hot. She stood up and made more coffee, this time for both of them.

A few minutes later he came and joined her on the settee, still yawning and brushing his hands through his curls before picking up his coffee wincing at how hot it was.

'Maybe I should give you a key; it would be a little easier than you having to break in. What time was it when you got here anyway?'

'About 3.00, couldn't sleep so thought I'd come over.' He cocked his head to one side and smiled as he looked at her, letting one hand slide up the leg that she'd tucked underneath her. 'Why didn't you wake me?'

She shifted slightly so as not to impede his progress shivering as he reached her knee. 'You seemed tired; I didn't want to disturb you.'

He drained his cup and put it back on the coffee table before twisting himself round to face her fully. 'You, Molly Hooper, can disturb me any time you want to.'

Slowly he pulled her further towards him using her legs before opening them, letting his thumbs slide up the inside of her thighs watching as her eyes dilated and her teeth bit down on her bottom lip. She was already aroused, he could see it, smell it and it made him hungry for her. For the first time he truly understood the relevance of Irene's texts endlessly asking him if he wanted dinner.

He wanted Molly and he wanted her now. He bent over her and let his tongue follow the path of his hands feeling her shiver and hearing her slight moan as he reached the top of her leg. He could smell her even more now and it made his mouth water and his erection throb in his shorts. Before he did any more though he moved to her other leg and began the same slow progress using his mouth and tongue, pressing open, wet kisses on her thigh and leaving a slight love bite which had her threading her hands into his hair and tugging on his curls in the most delightful manner.

She was lying back against the arm of the settee and her legs were spread for him. He'd pushed her dressing gown and night shirt up above her hips and reveled in the smoothness of her skin and the perfect proportions of her hips and legs. This time as he reached the apex of her thighs he placed a single kiss onto her clit feeling her bucking against him at the feel of it. He opened her up to him more fully and then used his tongue to tease her, stroking her with the flat of it before circling around her entrance with the tip of it. Her moans just encouraged him, making him want her even more.

He already knew what she preferred and he used his knowledge to devastating effect leaving her just before her climax started hearing her protects and pleas as he moved up to join her. Even as he kissed her her hands were in his shorts tugging at his cock pulling him forwards to join with her and as he slid into her he could feel her muscles already starting to contract around him squeezing him in a way that had him pushing into her needing to feel more.

She broke off from kissing him to call out his name and as she came down from one high he knew he could push her to a second. His hands gripped the arm rest of the settee, either side of her head allowing him to thrust into her more deeply; feeling her nails on his back scraping down and pulling on his backside as she urged him to go faster and deeper. Her mouth was on his neck, her tongue leaving wet trails along his throat and he could hear himself telling her how good she felt and how wet she was.

He moved one hand down her side until he gripped her knee pulling it higher so he could hit that spot inside her that he knew would tip her over into a second orgasm hoping he could hold out long enough to manage it. He was starting to falter though; starting to feel his own orgasm being pulled from him. Just as he thought he couldn't manage it he felt her nails dig in and heard her cry out as she pulled his climax from him. He felt his muscles straining with the effort of his final thrusts and the relief of feeling his seed spurting inside her. He would never tire of this; never. He had been a fool to resist as long as he had, wasting precious time for no real reason.

 **We're starting to get a bit more of the background to Sherlock's past and the hold it still has on him but seeing as we had a Sherlolly free chapter previously I thought they needed to reconnect. What do you think?**


	17. Chapter 17

**I seem to have a loyal band of followers on this fic though I'm sorry to see its not as popular as some of my other fics. Do not fear however I will keep going.**

 **Today we get to hear Sherlock's history; I hope you dont think it's too out of the realms of possibility for it to have happened.**

 **Chapter 17**

After they had breakfasted they ended up showering together, even giggling as they soaped each other's bodies enjoying how it allowed them to slide against each other. Sherlock slowly washed Molly's hair loving how she would groan in delight as his blunt nails scraped along her scalp. He found the feel and the weight of it in his hands, the smell of her body wash and the way her body pushed back against his in the enclosed space all had him aching for her once more.

His hands slid down her front slowing over her breasts as he massaged them before one hand moved lower to her clit. Her head and bum pressed back against him and he heard himself groan at the feeling of her ass rubbing against his cock. How could he be feeling so desperate for her so soon after their previous session? He felt like a student again.

Without him even asking and whilst he was still circling her clit she bent and braced her hands against the shower wall before looking over her shoulder and smiling sinfully at him.

He muttered out an 'oh God, Molly', as he took himself in hand stroking himself at the sight of her before finding her entrance and pushing into her once more.

This position had him already twitching with the start of his climax. He was able to go deeper and he used one hand to hold onto her hip as the other still rubbed circles over her clit making her moan louder and louder.

The noises she made, the feel of her body and the water cascading down onto him had him desperate to slam into her and fuck her harder than he ever had before. His pace and thrusts started to quicken and it just seemed to excite her more. He could hear her calling his name and begging for more.

His hands slid over her skin and his mouth sucked on her shoulder as he gave her everything he had. They came together both calling out for the other and Sherlock felt more alive in that moment than he had done for years. It was as though Molly was breaking down a barrier in his mind and freeing him.

They finished washing and with both of them wrapped up in towels they fell onto Molly's bed still kissing and touching each other though they were sated for now.

As she lay on his chest, her index finger circling the scar from his bullet wound she quietly asked him about his dreams. 'They bother you a lot don't they? What happened to you Sherlock? You don't have to tell me if you don't want but I want to know and to help you if I can.'

He sighed and looked at the ceiling as he started to speak.

'I was in my late teens, fresh out of university.' He felt her shift and knew she was confused. He looked down at her and gave her a quick smile, 'genius remember, I graduated early, I seemed to do everything younger and better than everyone else back then, well apart from Mycroft. He graduated at fifteen. I probably could have matched him but my parents felt he'd gone to university too young so they held me back a little.'

'It was only natural that I follow him into the government work, follow in his footsteps once again. I wasn't cut out for management though so I volunteered to go undercover and I was good at it; too good really. I could pick up languages easily, I was trained in weaponry, martial arts, you name it they trained me in it. I could even ballroom dance with the best of them at ambassadorial parties and get togethers. But I hated it. I hated being told what to do, what to think, what to say.'

'Anyway, it all came to a head when I was partnered with two other operatives. It was supposed to be a quick in out job, gather the data and leave but we'd been sold out by someone in MI5. We were captured and tortured for information. I was with them for three weeks. Three weeks of sleep deprivation, daily water boarding and beatings. Cushing and Lee didn't survive. I watched them being executed in front of me. I would have been next if it hadn't have been for Mycroft. He negotiated a prisoner exchange and brought me home.'

'They expected me to recover and carry on as before but I couldn't, I just couldn't. It wasn't the torture, though losing my colleagues was hard, it was the whole job, the philosophy of the place, the politics. I sank into drug use and alcoholism for a couple of years. I had no focus, nothing to occupy my brain until one day I came into contact with Lestrade when he was investigating a drug related murder. I watched him interviewing people around me, completely missing all the relevant points and signs and as I helped him I started to see a new life for myself.'

'He suggested I join up, train as an officer but I'd had enough of that, answering to others being at their beck and call, so I went freelance and apart from you it was the best decision I ever made. But the service has never gone away, they always want me back. I was the best operative they had ever had and they're constantly pissed with Mycroft that I won't return. I do him the odd favour here and there but no more...no more.'

Molly had stayed quiet whilst he'd talked wondering at how he could have lived such a life and survived such a past without any of his friends being aware of it. She sensed there was something he had missed out though, something which was worrying him.

'There's more, what is it?'

He glanced at her nervously. 'It's this case. The more I've read about the mind control techniques the worse my dreams seem to have become. There are blank spots in my mind regarding times when I was with MI5 and last night it suddenly occurred to me. What if I'm one of them? What if I was...am mind controlled?'

Molly could sense the terror lying just under the surface of this man that she loved. She had never, ever seen him so afraid; not even when there was a chance of him dying at the hands of Moriarty. But she got it; she could see why he wouldn't want to be manipulated and made to do things out of his own control. He had fought so hard for his freedom, whether that be from his previous job, his drug habit or his brother. To find that they had been controlling him all this time...

She sat up and let her hand cup his jaw; her thumb sliding along his cheekbone. 'How do we prove it...one way or the other...how do we find out whether it happened or not?'

Sherlock sighed in relief at her understanding and knowing his need for answers. He wiped his hand over his face not wanting to give the answer he was going to give. 'Mycroft!'

They spent another half an hour talking and discussing what they needed to do that day before dressing. Molly was to go to Mary's and subtly ask about her relationship with David. Sherlock gave her signs to look out for but he was very clear that she was to be careful and not to push for too much information. 'She may be our friend Molly but she is also a trained assassin. There is every chance that she would kill you and not even realise what she was doing as it happened.'

He hesitated wanting to say more, to impress upon her how much she meant to him but he couldn't find the words and the moment passed. He was still so new at this and still cautious about how much of himself he could give to her.

They took separate cabs as John had agreed to meet Sherlock at Euston station; they were meeting Lestrade with a view to travelling to Surrey to check out some of the properties they had identified, local police would be assisting them. Sherlock would also visit Mycroft later if he found the time.

As they parted Sherlock was overcome by a sudden desire to not be alone that night. 'Meet me at Baker St? I'm not sure what time I'll be back but I can text you. I'd...I'd like you to stay the night.'

Molly smiled shyly. 'OK, if you're sure.'

He kissed her forehead. 'I'm sure. Until later Molly Hooper.'

She watched and waved as he left first. She had some baby shopping to do before she went to Mary's. She knew Sherlock would have had no clue what to buy and she had no intention of turning up empty handed.

There was a small, boutique baby shop on the way to the Watson's house and Molly spent a good fifteen minutes admiring the tiny shoes and little outfits before buying a t shirt and cardigan with bees on and various other bits and bobs that she thought might come in useful. It made her a little sad as she shopped. She'd once thought that by this age she would have children of her own but it hadn't happened. Falling in love with a certain Consulting Detective had put paid to that and even though they were now together she just couldn't see him ever wanting children.

She paid and left the shop and shivered in the cold air as she hurried towards the tube. Sherlock might be able to afford endless taxis but it was tubes and buses for Molly Hooper.

When she finally made it to Mary's house Mary welcomed her in kissing her on the cheek and ushering her into the warmth of the front room. It was only as she entered that Molly realised they weren't alone. Her smile froze a little as she came face to face with Janine.

'Molly, you remember Janine from my wedding don't you? Janine, this is Sherlock and John's friend Molly. Though I'm hearing you're a little more than Sherlock's friend now...you dark horse, you.'

Janine looked up sharply and her cup clattered a little as she put it down.

Mary had the good sense to at least look a little embarrassed. 'Oh God, I'd forgotten. You and Sherlock were together weren't you.'

'Of sorts yes. So he's pretending to date you now then is he? Just take my word for it, don't believe a word that man says.'

Molly found herself torn, she didn't want to insult Janine but she wanted to defend her relationship with Sherlock. 'I know he treated you badly but our...um...friendship, well it's not like that.'

'Oh, you might think that now but he can be very convincing. We may not have actually had sex but believe me we came very close...very! Damn it, though but I miss kissing him. He's hands down the best kisser I've ever had.'

Molly felt jealousy rising and couldn't stop herself from biting out. 'Yes, well having sex with him is even better...believe me I know.'

Janine raised one eyebrow. 'So the ice king finally defrosted did he. I'm just sorry it wasn't a few months earlier. Anyway, Mary, I'd better be off. Things to see and people to do and all that. Lizzie is adorable and I'll be sure to come back soon for more cuddles with her.'

She stood and smoothed down her perfectly fitted dress before smiling sweetly at Molly. 'Do give my love to Sherlock, tell him I'm still planning on that cottage in the countryside with him. He'll know what I'm talking about. And...well, don't be surprised when he lets you down too. Take it from one who knows...you've been warned.'

Molly managed to grind out a 'goodbye' but couldn't say that she was sorry to see that woman leaving. She couldn't help the little flutter of nerves though at Janine's warning. She wasn't saying anything that Molly hadn't already worried about. It was still so new and unexpected with Sherlock that she couldn't help but wonder if it wasn't a mistake that he would wake up from.

 **A lot going on, the sex, the reveal, do we think Sherlock could have been mind controlled and what about the appearance of Janine? I love hearing what you guys think if it all.**


	18. Chapter 18

**I've decided I love comicon weekend in San Diego and just wish I had been able to go this year. The new Dr Strange trailer looks great and it seems we'll also be treated to a Sherlock one as well...happy days.**

 **Also, a thank you for all your reviews and an apology for not replying to them individually but for some reason fanfiction was having a wobble and wouldn't let me reply. It was not through want of trying on my part.**

 **Chapter 18**

She sat quietly for a moment whilst Mary showed Janine out, the two of them laughing and planning to meet up soon, Janine commenting again about how beautiful Lizzie was and how she'd look forward to cuddling her again soon.

It made Molly realise that she hadn't yet seen the baby. She had been so caught up in Janine and her horrible comments that she hadn't even thought about the little one.

Mary walked back in. 'Sorry about that she can be a bit of a bitch. Truth be told she liked Sherlock a lot more than she let on and she was completely fooled by him. Coffee?'

Molly smiled and followed Mary through to the kitchen. In fairness she did think that Sherlock had treated Janine badly and she said as much to Mary.

Mary smiled. 'I agree, I mean who except Sherlock would do something that low. John was baffled, absolutely baffled but then you know how he constantly puts Sherlock up on a pedestal only to get disappointed when he fails him, as he always does. You're better for him, I think you see him as he really is and love him anyway. Am I right?'

Molly nodded her head, 'I hope so...and I hope he's being honest with me.'

Mary frowned. 'Do you doubt it?'

'Yes...I mean, no. Oh I don't know. I wasn't until I spoke to Janine. She's just spooked me a little. It all feels like it's happened so fast with Sherlock and...well, you know what he's like. I suppose I'm just afraid that I'm "flavour of the month" and he'll be bored with me in a few weeks and moving on. Thing is, I don't think I would be able to move on if this ended. It was bad enough being in unrequited love with the man but to have loved him and lost him...it would finish me Mary.' She found herself suddenly feeling vulnerable and more emotional than she had meant to and Mary sensing it came over and hugged her.

'It's OK, I get it...I know what he's like but honestly we've never seen him show the slightest bit of true interest in anyone. So, if he's chosen to be with you...now, well, I think that's pretty special and not likely to change anytime soon. Come on let's go back in the front room. Lizzie's down for her nap so we have about an hour to gossip before she wakes and believe me I'm in need of some adult conversation.'

They sat down at each end of the settee facing each other with their feet tucked under them sipping on their drinks. 'So come on then, what's he like in bed?'

'Mary!'

'Oh don't give me that prim and proper face. I haven't had sex in weeks and I'm not likely too anytime soon what with these stitches and bleeding like there's no tomorrow. I need to live my sex life vicariously through you and I have to admit to a certain curiosity. I mean, he's a gorgeous guy and up until now he's been completely oblivious to all things sex related. Of course I'm going to be curious...so spill!'

Molly giggled. 'Well, let's just say there's no way he was a virgin, he's quite...umm..skilled and uses that mind palace of his to very good effect.'

'Damn, I bet he does. Do you think I could persuade him to teach John how to build one?'

'Worth a try.'

'So, when did you both get together? I mean last week he was all work, work, work and this week he's considering having babies with you. It seems like...'

'Babies!'

Mary bit her lip. 'Oh, maybe I shouldn't have said anything. He said he'd need to talk to you first. It's just...oh Molly you should have seen him. He was so bowled over by Lizzie yesterday. He could barely take his eyes off her. If you ever had any doubts about whether he would want children I think you can dispel them. I'm not saying he'd make a great dad, he'd probably be awful and you'd be wanting to hit him more than kiss him but I think he'd definitely be up for it.'

Molly couldn't help the grin that spread across her face at this news.

'So, did you always want children Mary? Or was it just with John?'

'Honestly, it was just with John. I've had an...err...sketchy past you might say. Most of the men I was with were just one night stands or short term. I was with David for a while when I came to London...you might remember him, he was at the wedding. But once I'd met John that was it for me, I fell for him hook, line and sinker.'

'Did David mind...I mean were you still with him?'

'No, we'd already split up but that was my choice not his. He's made it clear he still likes me and it must show because apparently Sherlock warned him off, on John's behalf, just before the wedding. David was really shook up, called Sherlock a psychopath as though we didn't already know that.' She laughed and then schooled her expression as she realised Molly wasn't joining in, 'not that he actually is a psychopath...just a bit different, that's all.'

Molly had kept a close eye on Mary as she talked about David but she didn't see any change in her expression or any glazing of her eyes, none of the signs that Sherlock had told her to look out for. It all felt like a bit of a bust. She hoped Sherlock was having more success with whatever he was doing.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

The short answer was that he hadn't. He and John had left Lestrade with the local police and had taken a hire car out to some of the properties that Sherlock had wanted to check out. They now had a dozen leaflets and quotations for various very authentic looking establishments everything from private knee replacement for John and plastic surgery for Sherlock who was currently feeling quite insulted about some of the comments about his nose.

If any of them were a front for 'other' work they were very elaborate and realistic looking fronts.

By early evening they were all travelling back to London. Sherlock wanted to call round and interview David Foster but he needed to get rid of John before he did. He had also received a call back from Mycroft agreeing to meet him at 8pm at his club, The Diogenes. Sherlock hated it there, it was relentlessly posh and hideously pretentious just like his brother but at least they could talk in private.

He'd texted Molly to say that he'd be home about nine and she'd responded with a promise that she would make some food for when he got back, it meant there was one less thing for him to worry about. He hadn't eaten since the day before and even he needed sustenance every once in a while, more so since he'd started having sex again, it seemed to give him an appetite for other things as well.

Much to his annoyance, and the frustration of John and Greg who had to put up with him, the train was delayed meaning that he had to postpone his interrogation of David and head straight to the meeting with Mycroft. He said his goodbyes to the others promising to catch up with them both the following day.

He signed into the club and was led up to one of the private member meeting rooms on the second floor. On entering he was greeted by his brother who ordered two very expensive scotches for them from the footman. They waited until they had been served and then left alone before they started their conversation.

'So, twice in two days brother. We are almost becoming familiar with each other. How can I be of assistance now?'

Sherlock took a sip of his drink, enjoying the smooth taste and the slight buzz that the alcohol gave him. He needed to keep his head though; he couldn't afford to let his emotions overtake him.

'We've already established that experimentation has continued unabated on mind control. My question is how widespread is it?'

Mycroft shook his head. 'No, it isn't. You don't care how much we use it. Why don't you get to the point Sherlock? We both know what you want to ask me.'

'Do we?'

Mycroft sighed in irritation. 'Yes, we do. You want to know if you ever went through any form of mind control and the short answer is yes, you did.' He paused letting his words sink in, watching his brother's reaction.

Sherlock's mouth felt dry, as though he couldn't swallow and his thoughts and emotions were in a maelstrom, he felt anger, fear, and an overwhelming feeling of powerlessness. How deep had they gone?

'I know what you're thinking. You are wondering how far we went with you. But you have to understand not all of the work is about full control over people. Your program was more of an enhancement, behaviour modification.' He put his hand on a slim, brown folder sitting on the table at the side of him. 'All the details are here and you can read them at your leisure.'

He went on. 'It was specific to you. I wouldn't have allowed anything generic in your...conditioning.'

The very word had Sherlock gritting his teeth and fisting his hands in an effort to stop himself from standing up and just punching his brother in the face. How dare they! How dare they tamper with his brain, with his personality, what the hell had they done to him?

'It was named Operation REDBEARD after your beloved dog. You were given drugs including a hallucinogen called Quinuclididinyl Benzilate and you underwent some electro convulsive therapy. It was all designed to help you to withstand high levels of torture by developing a mind palace for you to retreat into. You used your dog as your safe touchstone if you will. It's one if the reasons why your memory is so good Sherlock. You've been benefiting from what was done to you ever since.'

'And the downside, the side effects? Come on Mycroft, there's always something.'

Mycroft pursed his lips. 'Yes...an unfortunate predilection for drugs seems to have come out of it. Also, a reduced sex drive although it appears that that side effect is now wearing off. How is Ms Hooper? Enjoying reaping the rewards? I expect you're like a starving man who's just been presented with a banquet.'

Sherlock stood and loomed over his brother. 'Don't! Don't even joke about this Mycroft. You played God with my head and you wonder why we aren't closer as siblings. This, this is why Mycroft. You're the psychopath in the family not me. You just cover it well with expensive suits and an above reproach occupation but we both know that it's just a means to an end for you. You get off on controlling people and you can't stand the fact that you can't control me. I will never put myself in your power again...do you understand Mycroft? Never again.'

He snatched up the file and started to leave. He heard his brother chucking behind him. 'We'll see Sherlock, we'll see. Until the next time you need something.'

He took great relish in slamming the door as loud as he could behind him knowing that at least Mycroft would be reprimanded for that. Then he made his way back to his home and to Molly.

 **Once again the drugs and the electro-therapy and the aim to reduce people's vulnerability to torture were all things that were tried by the CIA etc. however, Operation Redbeard is totally my own construct. The threads of the story are all starting to come together and I hope you are still enjoying it. Let me know. And fingers crossed for some Molly in the Sherlock trailer.**


	19. Chapter 19

**We're starting to get towards the end of this story and things will be hotting up, in more ways than one ;). Starting with Sherlock coming back from THAT conversation with his brother!**

 **Chapter 19**

By the time Sherlock got back to Baker St it was almost ten and Molly had already eaten her food and was keeping some warm, for Sherlock, in the oven. She had been glancing at her watch and wondering whether to text him but she didn't want to come over as a possessive girlfriend watching his every step. She knew him and she knew she needed to hold onto him with silver chains and not iron shackles.

And anyway, she didn't want him to change, she never had. She loved him and accepted him for who he was, he wasn't a project for her to manage or change.

It was then that the front door slammed closed downstairs and she heard his footsteps coming up the stairs and she couldn't help the way her stomach flipped over and her breath caught in her throat. It was still so novel and so new to be his lover and she hoped she would always feel this excited to see him.

He swept into his flat like a storm and she could tell immediately that the meet up with Mycroft had not gone well. He threw a brown file down on the coffee table and was already talking ten to the dozen as he swept his coat and scarf off and flung them onto John's chair.

'That bastard, that absolute bastard. I knew I should never have trusted him. Why have enemies Molly when you can have an older brother intent on controlling and ruining every aspect of your life. They did it. He didn't even try and hide it. Already had the file ready for me to view. They drugged me and fucked with my mind; my life. God knows what else they did that I can't remember. He even tried to say he'd done me a favour. A favour! I'll kill him. I will actually kill him. I could you know, he may have security but I have access and he wouldn't expect it. You know the only thing stopping me...my parents. It would devastate our mother if anything happened to him. It would devastate her if she knew what he'd done to me. It was my mind Molly...mine!'

She stood listening to him feeling helpless in the face of his anger. She knew he wasn't angry with her and that it was his powerlessness that frustrated him the most. It was that knowledge which drove her closer to him.

'Listen, I don't know exactly what they've done to you, but you've survived it, and you can help those who are still being controlled; like Mary, you can help Mary and John and the baby. I know you and you work best under pressure so use this. Use this energy to find them and stop them and I'll help you, whatever you need...anything.'

He seemed to really notice she was there for the first time and as he turned his focus onto her she shuddered at the look in his eye. In an instance the mood around him changed and Molly felt her mouth run dry. In two strides he reached her and in three he had her pressed up against the wall his hands already pulling at her clothing.

His kiss was bruising and desperate but she soaked it all up giving as much as he was taking. Within a matter of a couple of minutes she was almost naked and she felt his knee pushing her legs aside and his fingers delving into her making her gasp as his mouth moved to her neck.

He bent his knees and she felt herself being lifted up as though she weighed nothing at all and her mind reeled as she became aware that he was replacing his fingers with his cock. It had all happened so fast that her mind was struggling to keep up even as her body cried out for more. He hadn't even shed his jacket and yet here he was fucking her against the wall of his flat and anyone could walk in.

Molly knew she should be feeling embarrassed or worried; it felt so wrong and yet equally so very arousing. As he sucked on the skin of her neck one hand was teasing at her breast, the other under her bum holding her up as he relentlessly slammed into her.

She became aware that he was muttering under his breath and she struggled to make out what he was saying. It was only as her climax started to take over that she realised he was saying 'my Molly, mine' over and over again.

She responded in kind hearing herself crying out, 'yes, God, yes I'm yours, yours.' It was what he needed to hear to send him over the edge and he came with a roar that had Molly vehemently hoping that Mrs Hudson was out.

She clung onto him as he started to put her down, worrying that her legs wouldn't take her weight. He leant his forehead against hers for a moment catching his breath before he kissed her once more, this time slower and gentler than it had been, 'I don't know what I would have done without you Molly. Never leave me, please.'

She kissed him back sensing his mood shifting once more. 'Never, I promise, never.'

He stood up straighter and she put her hands on his cheeks, looking into his eyes. 'I know you might not be able to say this back to me but I love you Sherlock, I will always be here for you.'

He closed his eyes and bit his lip before whispering out a thank you.

MHMHMHMHMHMHMHMHMH

After she'd cleaned up and put on one of his dressing gowns she found him eating his plate of food whilst pouring over the paperwork that Mycroft had given him. He indicated for her to join him and passed her some of the papers so she could read for herself what he'd been though. As she picked up a couple of the photos showing Sherlock strapped to a gurney and undergoing the electro convulsive therapy she had to bite back the tears that threatened to fall. He needed her strong not weeping.

She recognised some of the drugs they'd used and they discussed how they would have affected his mind and body, talking about the side effects.

'I always thought my sexual abstinence was a personal choice, one that I had taken after coming out of rehab but it seems more likely that it was a side effect of the treatment. It had felt as though certain walls in my mind have been breaking down since we embarked on our relationship.'

Molly was silent, she couldn't help but worry that maybe once he was back to himself it wouldn't be her he wanted. Maybe she was just the trigger and that was all.

He must have noticed her since because he brought his finger up to lift her chin so she was looking at him. She saw him deducing her, she could almost see the cogs turning in his head until he let out a small, 'ah.'

He put the file down and turned to face her holding one of her hands in both of his. 'Molly, I'm not good with emotions and feelings; but then you know that more than most. My feelings for you are not a side effect of some brain washing; they are the result of it leaving my system. I have always found you attractive, I have always wanted you from the moment I saw you but whatever they did to me made me push you away and deny myself.'

He leant forward and kissed her. 'This is the real me, I promise, and I will always want you...always.'

That night was the first night that they had gone to bed together. There was no need for more sex, they were both fully satisfied. Instead Sherlock held her against his chest, his arm around her shoulder as she listened to his heart beat and felt his hands making patterns on her back as he spoke. He talked about the case, his plans and deductions and what he needed to do next. She smiled as she listened to him loving just being with him, nothing more, nothing less.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

The following day Molly was in work early and Sherlock was determined to track down David Foster. He needed an answer one way or the other as to whether he was the handler or not before he wasted too much time on him.

He had a home address and a workplace so given the fact that he had not surfaced and dressed until mid-morning he went down to David's workplace and took up watch. David didn't appear on the surface to have achieved much in his life. He was the manager at a local deli and sandwich bar, still single going by his profile with no children or other family. If that was who he truly was then maybe it was the orphan status which had attracted Mary because Sherlock couldn't see that he had much else going for him.

It was a cold day and Sherlock soon felt chilled to the bone stood across the street from the deli watching the activities so in the end he waited until a quiet period and then went in.

David had his back to the door and one of his staff was serving the only other customer but when he turned around and saw Sherlock he visibly paled and sagged a little against the counter behind him.

'M...M...Mr Holmes. I...I haven't been round. I mean I know they've had the baby and I ought to but I haven't been. I remember what you said about limiting my visits and making sure John was there.'

Sherlock waved a dismissive hand. 'Coffee please, black two sugars. Maybe you could join me for a minute?' He gestured to a couple of tables at the back of the shop laid out for customers to enjoy their food. They were both empty.

Sherlock threw a couple of pounds onto the counter to cover the cost and went to sit down at the table nearest to the radiator so he could at least warm up a little.

As he removed his gloves and placed them on the table he watched David closely but he honestly couldn't see any sign that this frankly pathetic specimen of manhood was anything other than he had always thought he was. He certainly didn't show any signs of being under cover or any particular skills. He also made no sign to use his phone to call or text.

David brought Sherlock's drink over along with one for himself; managing to spill both as he did because his hands were shaking with nerves.

He sat down and looked at Sherlock expectantly but for a minute Sherlock just sat and observed as David became more and more nervous, fiddling with his cuffs, avoiding eye contact and starting to sweat.

'David, I find I need your help with a case. Are you up for that?'

'I...I...why me, I mean I don't think I'd be any good...wh..what would you need me to do?'

'I'd need you to go undercover for me and find out some information. You're an orphan aren't you?'

'Yes...sorry, how did you know that?'

'Brought up where and how?'

'My nan...my dad's mum I mean. She took me in after dad died. I was fifteen. I stayed with her until I was 25 which was when I decided to move to London to get more of a life. Living in a small village and working in her newsagents wasn't very exciting and when she died I sold up and bought this franchise. It isn't much but I get a living from it and I have a flat above. But what's this case...I don't think I'd be able to help I'm here most days and...well, to be honest I'm not a brave man. I think it would be too much.'

Sherlock nodded. 'Well, thank you for your time. I'll find someone else.'

He got up to leave knowing he had enough information to confirm his deduction that David was not who he had hoped he was. He was back to square one.

As he was leaving he walked past a television high up on the wall. His attention was caught by the pictures, police cars outside Barts and the ticker tape underneath.

 _ **Attack at Barts hospital leaves one injured and one dead. Police are on the scene.**_

At the same time his phone started to ring and beep as both texts and a call came in making him suddenly feel sick to his stomach.

 **So David was a bust and now there's another attack. I'll leave you mulling over this cliff-hanger!**


	20. Chapter 20

**Sorry, not sorry for the cliff hanger but your wait is over. Time to go back a little and find out what occurred at Barts whilst Sherlock was quizzing David.**

 **Chapter 20**

 **Twenty minutes earlier**

Molly was just writing up some preliminary notes prior to typing up the full file following her morning autopsy. It was just before lunch and she was wondering what the chances were of Sherlock coming into Barts. She'd only left him five hours earlier but she was missing him already. She felt like a giddy teenager in love for the first time but she didn't care. She was going to enjoy each and every minute of her time with him.

For once she wasn't alone in the morgue. They had a couple of new trainee lab assistants in the pathology unit and one of them, a young lad of about 25 called Jason had been assisting her during the autopsy and was now helping her by putting the body away and he was also doing all the clean up on the equipment which made a pleasant change.

He'd just closed the door of the cool unit when his phone rang. Molly frowned; she'd need to have a word with him about having it with him and switched on. She knew she was guilty of it herself but she liked to instill the proper rules into the new staff. He'd turned away as he answered and Molly bent her head back to her notes making a couple of alterations. It had been a straight forward case but the family had requested the autopsy as he'd...

It was at that moment that some kind of sixth sense or maybe a shadow that made Molly turn and duck which meant she was hit by a glancing blow rather than one which probably would have smashed her head in.

As she fell to one side taking the equipment trolley down with her she could see the trainee standing above her holding a bright red fire extinguisher. He was quickly raising it back up to hit her again.

It felt as though everything was taking place in slow motion she could see the mad, slightly glazed look in his eye so absolutely, manically focused on her. Her left hand hit the floor first and twisted painfully and she could hear the clattering of the instruments as they fell around her. But the most important thing was that her thoughts were all about Sherlock, she saw his face last night as he came, then how he looked this morning as he slept. She didn't want to leave him, not now, not ever.

The rest of her body met the floor as the fire extinguisher swung down on her once more. She twisted to the side and heard it clang just to the right of her. Blood was starting to trickle down her face from the initial blow and affecting the vision in her left eye but as she turned back her right hand felt the metal of a scalpel and it was the work of a moment to grasp it.

She knew that he would kill her if he could, he seemed deranged and he was already bringing the heavy extinguisher up for another hit and she had no where to go. She had one chance and she needed to do it now.

Without giving it any other thought she brought up the hand holding the scalpel and stabbed him hard in his thigh right where his femoral artery was. As she removed the blade his blood followed in a slew of scarlet.

She heard him yell and stagger but he wasn't giving up. She saw the extinguisher come down one last time and as her world went black her final thought was of Sherlock.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

Sherlock quickly glanced at the texts which were from John, Mycroft and an unknown number before answering to Lestrade. 'Is she alright?'

'Sherlock, there's been an incident at Barts...I don't know if you've seen the news.'

By now Sherlock was in the street and hailing a cab. 'Yes, yes I saw. Is Molly alright?'

'She was attacked. We don't know who by yet...'

'For God's sake Greg is Molly hurt?' He bellowed out the words as he climbed into the cab before barking at the driver to get to Barts.

'Yes but nothing serious. She took a blow to the head and they're checking her for concussion. She managed to defend herself and it's her assailant who's dead.'

Sherlock let out a breath of air that he didn't realise he'd been holding onto and his body sagged into the seat. He put his hand over his face and had to make a conscious effort to pull himself together. He could hear Lestrade asking if he were still there.

'Yes, yes I'm here. I should be with you in less than ten minutes. Tell Molly I'm on my way.'

'Will do Sherlock.'

He hung up on Greg and checked the texts. One from John asking if he'd seen the news and was Molly OK, the second from his brother informing him of an attack at Barts but it was the third from the unknown number that was the most chilling.

 **I see we have a new pressure point Mr Holmes**

Sherlock narrowed his eyes, if he hadn't known better he would have said it was from Charles Magnussen but Magnussen was dead. He'd killed him; there was no doubt on that score. So who was this?

He was tempted to reply to it but knew he needed to act smart and think this through. Instead he texted Mycroft asking him to see if he could trace the number even though it had come up as withheld.

He received a curt response back.

 **Didn't take you long to need my help again little brother. I'll send you what I find within the hour. MH**

His taunt had Sherlock fisting his hands but he knew he'd suffer any humiliation at the hands of his brother if it meant keeping Molly safe. He knew she was a weak point and that being with her would compromise him but this shock had clarified one thing in his mind that he now knew absolutely; he loved Molly Hooper and nothing would or could ever change that. He just needed to deal with the consequences of it because changing it or denying it were no longer options that were available to him.

By the time the cab started pulling up to Barts Sherlock was already out and running having paid the cabbie in advance. He didn't even break his stride as he ran up the steps to the main entrance.

Lestrade had texted him Molly's location in A&E and he decided to go there first and make sure in his own mind that she was OK and then join Lestrade in the morgue to piece together what had happened.

He found a nurse and demanded she take him to Molly. She frowned at his brusqueness but pointed out which curtained cubicle she was being treated in. As he put his hand on the material he had to take a moment and a deep breath to prepare him for what he might see. He needed to stay focused and in control, losing his temper or getting emotional wouldn't help to keep Molly safe and that was his priority.

Finally he drew back the curtain just enough that he could step through and he looked down on the battered and bruised face and body of the love of his life. He felt his heart and his fists clench at the sight. Her left eye was almost completely closed and swollen with a nasty gash in the skin above it; she already had steri-stitches holding the wound closed. Her left wrist was bandaged, and there were cuts on her right, plus he could also see another bruise starting to form on her right collar bone.

Tentatively he sat on the edge of the bed and picked up her relatively uninjured right hand. As he did she opened her eyes and smiled as she saw who it was. 'Sherlock...you're here.' Her voice was little more than a whisper but it was so good to hear.

'Where else would I be?'

She rolled her eyes. 'Oh, I don't know, off catching my assailant and beating him to a pulp. Running around being all clever...something like that.'

He frowned. 'Molly...your assailant is dead. I spoke to Lestrade, you killed him.'

He was amazed and dumbfounded to see tears springing into her eyes. Her voice seemed to catch in her throat as she spoke her next words. 'I...I killed him? I didn't mean to...oh God...I never meant it...'

Sherlock huffed. 'I don't understand why you're so upset. He hurt you and he deserved it. If you hadn't killed him it would be you that would be dead. Then he'd still be dead because I would have killed him.'

His confusion but absolute belief in the rightness of what she had done did comfort her in a strange way and she brought her left hand up to wipe away her tears before wincing with pain having forgotten her injury.

Sherlock bent to kiss her forehead. 'I need to go and see Greg but I'll be back later.'

She smiled weakly. 'OK. Before you go though…it was connected.'

'What was connected?'

'The attack...on me. He...he took a call and it was like he was drugged or something. His eyes were glazed and he was just determined to hit me...to kill me. Please just find out who's doing this Sherlock...I don't want anyone else hurt or killed.'

He returned her smile and placed one hand gently on her cheek. 'I will. And Molly...'

'What?'

'I love you.' As he said these words they just felt right and he kissed her on the lips feeling her mouth responding to his; her lips so pliant and soft. A moment later he pulled away to go and find Lestrade more determined than ever to find the person behind all this.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

He found the D.I. down in the morgue surrounded by forensics. The body of Molly's attacker was still in place; lying in a wide pool of blood. It appeared Molly's aim had been devastatingly accurate and he was so glad she hadn't hesitated or tried to just slow him down. Anything less than a lethal blow and he suspected she'd be dead and even just the thought of it made him feel vaguely ill.

'Ah Sherlock. I don't think there's much for you here as far as the bodies concerned but I've asked my team to find out as much background information as I can. I told them to send something as soon as possible.'

Together the two men looked down on the body. Sherlock could already tell that he had been covering up a drug addiction...maybe that had been their route in. He also suspected they'd find evidence of him being an orphan or adrift from his family in some way. This was the first time that someone specific had been targeted and Sherlock knew that had to mean something. The net was narrowing around him but it also meant he was closer than ever to breaking the case. He could just sense it.

'How was Molly?'

Sherlock shrugged. 'She's hurt but she'll be fine.'

'I'm assuming you won't want her going back to her flat alone after this. I need to interview her about the incident but I'm happy to wait til tomorrow...'

Sherlock nodded. 'Yes, fine. Come to Baker St that's where she'll be.'

'So, things are still on between you two then?'

This made Sherlock frown. 'If by on you mean are we together then yes. Why do people have to use so many ridiculous euphemisms? Is the word relationship too scary?'

Lestrade rolled his eyes. 'Honestly, when it comes to you? Yes, yes it is too scary. God help Molly.'

He walked away chuckling leaving Sherlock stewing over the not even lightly veiled insult.

 **So, have you worked out who's behind all this? The clues are there so put your deerstalkers on and let me know your theories.**


	21. Chapter 21

**It's the reveal of the big bad today. I liked your guesses and some of you got it spot on. Maybe the Consukting Detective is rubbing of on us all.**

 **Chapter 21**

Molly was discharged from hospital two hours later. She'd had her skull, collarbone and wrist X rayed and the doctors were satisfied that there were no breaks or fractures and that short of a bad headache there was no concussion or lasting damage.

Caring for someone was not something which came naturally to Sherlock but he found he didn't want Molly to be any more miserable or uncomfortable than she already was so he did his best to look after her. She was soon installed in his bedroom, which he found he rather liked, along with her cat Toby who Molly had insisted they pick up on the way; he found he liked that rather less, at least at first. Thankfully as they had arrived at Baker St Mrs Hudson had come out of her flat and quickly taken over bustling about providing Molly with tea, soup and various magazines to help keep her occupied.

'Thank you but really I think I'm just going to have the soup and tea and then sleep. I just feel ridiculously exhausted.'

Sherlock left her to eat but he couldn't resist going to half lie half sit on the bed next to her as she slept. He was still finding his emotions a little overwhelming and he found being with Molly and knowing she was safe calmed him. So he lay there thinking through the current ramifications of the case and what he needed to do next. He couldn't and wouldn't let sentiment affect his focus.

Lestrade had been true to his word and he had forwarded on all the information he had been able to gather about Jason Fletcher, the dead assailant. It seemed he wasn't an orphan but he had been estranged from his family since he was sixteen. They'd thrown him out after a prolonged period of drug use and hadn't seen him in nearly ten years, just the occasional phone call to let them know he was still alive. There was nothing much known about him until three years ago when he had reappeared seemingly cleaned up and with the money to pay himself through college and get himself a trainee position at Barts as a lab and morgue assistant.

Sherlock figured he had a good idea what had happened to Jason in those missing years and the result of it had sealed his fate.

By the time he came out of his mind palace it was dark and Molly was stirring. He slid down and lay on his side facing her as she rolled over and opened her eyes.

She smiled as she saw him but winced at the way it pulled the skin around her swollen eye. 'Hey.'

He smiled back. 'Hey to you too. How are you feeling?'

She wrinkled her nose and Sherlock found himself wanting to kiss it. 'Not that great but I bet a kiss from you will make it all better.'

He chuckled. 'I suspect it will take another dose of painkillers but I'm happy for you to try the kiss first and see if it works.'

He moved closer and bent his head so he could press his lips to hers. He tried to keep the kiss chaste, not wanting to put Molly under any pressure given her injuries, but she opened her mouth to him and used her good hand to pull him closer, moaning into his mouth and making him wish they could go further.

Reluctantly he pulled away ignoring her mewl of complaint. 'Not until you're well Molly Hooper.'

'I'm well...I promise.'

He grinned and shook his head. 'No you're not. Here you go, here's some water and your next dose of tablets.'

He sat up and passed her the items from his bedside cabinet watching as she dutifully took them before lying back down.

She turned her head to face him again. 'So, how's it all going? Did you track down David like you wanted to?'

Sherlock scowled. 'Yes, but it was to no avail. He isn't the handler. There must be someone else. Someone we haven't yet considered. Who else is there from Mary's past?'

There was silence for a moment until Molly piped up. 'What about Janine?'

Sherlock frowned. 'What about her? Mary only got close to her to be able to gain access to Magnussen in a not too dissimilar way to myself.'

Molly shook her head before stilling with a quiet 'ow'.

'No, I think you're wrong. They're still friends. I forgot to mention but she was at Mary's house when I went round. They seemed very chummy still.'

Sherlock went quiet as he thought through the implications of what Molly was saying. Could he have got Janine all wrong? Could she be a bigger player in this game than he'd ever considered? And if so how had he so fundamentally underestimated her?

By the time he came out of his mind palace Molly was asleep again. He slid off the bed without disturbing her and went through to his front room rearranging the documents and information on his wall to match this new piece of information. It all worked...it all pieced together. It looked as though Janine was Mary's handler. She wasn't just Magnussen's PA she had manoeuvred herself into that position for a reason...to gain information or to control Magnussen...he wasn't quite sure yet. Was she still a cog or was she actually the engine? There was only one way to find out.

He picked up his phone and scrolled to the text from the unknown number.

 **Well played Janine. I think it's about time we meet up to discuss retirement plans. SH**

It was just after midnight and he wasn't sure whether he'd get a response any time soon but it only took ten minutes.

 **Finally Sherly only took you best part of six months. Be at the pool where you met Jim in two hours. Jx**

So he'd been right and it looked as though Janine had been close to Moriarty...girlfriend, wife? He shook his head neither of those felt right. Jim had been gay, of that he was sure. So what was she to him...there was only one feasible option remaining and it made his eyes widen and his mouth open in a silent 'oh'. Sister...she had been Jim's sister.

He wasn't stupid enough to go alone so he called John.

'What the fuck...Sherlock it's the middle of the night.'

'I wouldn't have rung if it wasn't important John.'

He heard a huff and then some words from Mary.

'It's Sherlock...I don't know...go on what do you need?'

'I need you to come on a job with me. I think I've found the person behind the attack on Molly and they want to meet at 2.00. I'll pick you up in a cab about quarter to.'

There was a deep sigh and a beat of silence. 'Fine. I'll be ready.'

An hour later and they were both in the cab with Sherlock bringing John up to speed about the developments. He was careful not to mention Janine's connection to Mary. He wanted John fully focused not worried about his marriage...there'd be plenty of time for that later.

'I can't believe Janine is Jim's sister. I mean she seemed so...I don't know...normal. She was Mary's bridesmaid for god's sake.'

'Yes, but Mary only chose her to get close to Magnussen. We've been through this.'

'So you think Janine was already a plant in Magnussen's office...for Jim? But Jim was dead.'

'Obviously Janine was trying to carry on his work, keep the network going. Right, we're nearly there. I need you to have my back. You brought your gun?'

'Yes.'

'Good. Stay out of sight for now until I know how safe it is, but don't let Janine know that you're there.'

John quickly disappeared into the shadows and Sherlock checked his watch. It had a sense of almost deja vu as he pushed open the doors and walked into the pool room. It was just as it had been that night except this time he knew John was with him and safe. Plus Molly was home being cared for by Mrs Hudson and watched over by Mycroft's men.

He had contemplated whether Janine would have marksmen like her brother but it seemed unlikely. He had all but obliterated Jim's empire beyond this small programme and he believed that Janine was running on bluster and bravado. She was probably aiming on blackmail...money in return for security to help her rebuild. He just had to scope the extent of it, find the centre and shut her down; child's play.

He watched the reflections of the water ripple across the ceiling as he waited for Janine. He didn't have long to wait. She came through the same door Jim had but the way she walked and held herself was different from how she had been when they had been "dating". She'd been good, he'd give her that much credit, she had completely fooled him with her shallow, fawning girlfriend routine.

She was dressed in red. A figure hugging shift dress which accentuated her curves and looked good with her colouring but he didn't find her attractive. Intriguing yes; sexy no.

'Hi Sherly, I have to say I was surprised to get your text. I wondered if you would ever figure it out...and I wonder how much you do know.'

Sherlock took a couple of steps forward but stayed a good couple of metres away. That dress might look figure hugging but he had no doubt there was a gun close to hand.

'I know you're Jim's sister. I know you were using Magnussen for your own ends and I also know about Mary.'

Janine nodded her head. 'I'm impressed. You know the weapon I have at my disposal and yet you are still here, risking your blogger. Although as I said there's a new weak link now isn't there?'

He wanted to tell her to stay the hell away from Molly but it would just give her the ammunition she wanted. So instead he put on his best poker face and lied. 'What can I say, she was easy and I found I needed some sexual satisfaction.'

Janine smiled and shook her head. 'But we both know there's more to it than that Sherl. I tried to get you to sleep with me for weeks and you didn't bite once.' She turned and walked away before turning back. 'Most men are easy. They're led by their dicks. I just have to open my legs and they're mine to do with as I please; but not you. You were different. I see what Miss Adler saw in you. But little mousy Molly seems to have snared you good and proper and that's what makes you weak. That's what will put you into my hands to do what I want.'

He narrowed his eyes. 'So what is it that you want from me? Money...I'm not that rich. I'm too well known to be a good criminal...so what?'

She laughed, a rich throaty laugh that made Sherlock have to bite back a curl of his lip.

'You still don't get it do you Sherl. It's not about you, it was never about you. Magnussen told you what it was about. Did you think that was his plan? Before me he had just been interested in the sex lives of celebrities and sordid politicians. It was me who told him he could have so much more. You already know what this is about Sherlock.'

For the first time Sherlock felt the same dread that he had with Magnussen. That feeling of the rug being pulled from under him. He had to clear his throat before he could speak. 'Mycroft.'

She clapped her hands. 'Finally, it's always been about getting to Mycroft. If I have you, I have him and I currently have two weak links for you; John and Molly. Hmm, I only really need one but maybe you need a demonstration of my resolve. Agra, you can bring him out now.'

Sherlock heard the door open behind him and he spun on his heel to see John being pushed through the door; a gun held to the back of his head by a very dangerous and controlled Mary.

 **Dun, dun, duuunnnn. Another cliff hanger to leave you guys with. We're getting into the final stages now and I'm so glad you've all stayed with me. As always I'd love to hear what you think...pretty please xx**


	22. Chapter 22

**We're close to the end now guys. Thank you for sticking with me and that's for all your support.**

 **Chapter 22**

John was about as pale as Sherlock had ever seen him as he shuffled into the room ahead of Mary. His face showed his fear and confusion as his eyes met with Sherlock's and a blossoming bruise on the right side of his face told Sherlock how Mary must have reacted when John had not believed her to be serious.

'What the fuck is going in Sherlock?'

Janine laughed. 'Aww does your blogger not know who or should I say what he is married to?'

Sherlock was still looking at John and Mary as she said this and Mary's quick wince at her harsh words gave him hope. He held his hands up in a non-threatening calming gesture.

'Mary, you don't want to do this. Just like you didn't want to kill me that night. They've been abusing you for the last ten years or more, drugging you, torturing you, breaking your will so that you will do what they say.'

John started to speak but Sherlock shushed him watching as Mary's eyes narrowed.

'Think about it Mary. Why would you want to hurt John? You love him, you married him. You have a child with him. Their hold on you has been weakening...I bet you've felt it..memories from the past coming back, nightmares of torture sessions, knowing you've done things but not knowing why...'

'Enough!' Janine walked forward looking angrily at Sherlock. 'She's my puppet. Don't you get that? She has to do whatever I ask...why? Because I own her, I control her and I can break her if I need to.'

Sherlock kept his eyes on Mary but shook his head. 'I don't believe that's true. Not any more, what are you her third handler...her fourth? The connection weakens over time and from being passed around plus love is a powerful thing.'

Janine barked out a laugh once more. 'You...Sherlock Holmes talk to me about love. You're pathetic. An emotionally stunted child. You have no idea what love or emotions even are so why would you even think to lecture me about it.'

She went on, her voice harsh and cold. 'You should be grateful to me...yes to me and Mary. If it wasn't for us you wouldn't even be here. You'd be off on some pointless mission for your brother, or worse dead already. I'm sure you figured out what happened?'

John frowned looking back and forth between his best friend and the woman he'd faked a relationship with and Sherlock knew he was completely lost.

He nodded his head in Janine's direction. 'I assume that when Mary realised I was to be exiled it was one of her triggers. She contacted you and you released the footage of your brother in order to ensure I would still be around. Without me you don't have any leverage over Mycroft.'

Janine smiled like a parent whose child has just done something clever. 'Such a shame you were so frigid and that we never fucked. I have a feeling we could have been magnificent.'

She must have seen Sherlock's sneer of disapproval because he saw the anger wash over her normally attractive features.

'Enough of this,' she turned back to Mary and John. 'I don't need a blogger and a girlfriend no matter how fake she is. Mary kill John.'

Mary pushed the gun into the back of John's skull and forced him to his knees.

'Mary!' John's voice almost wavered. 'Mary...I love you. Think of our daughter, think of Lizzie. She needs us, she needs you.'

There was a click as Mary released the safety.

'Wait, wait,' shouted Sherlock his sole attention on Mary; hands raised to try to reason with her. There was a beat of silence and Sherlock's eyes met with John's and he could see the resignation on his friend's face and it made his heart clench. Janine pushed him to one side as she stalked towards Mary who was still staring at the back of John's head but Sherlock saw that she was starting to sweat and her hand was shaking imperceptibly.

'Agra Osterhagen!'

Mary winced but this time it was with pain and she seemed to redouble her efforts to hold the gun wrapping her other hand around the grip to steady her aim.

John closed his eyes. 'I love you Mary. And Sherlock, you bugger, you protect my Lizzie.'

They was a crack of a gunshot and Sherlock froze staring at John seeing his eyes tight shut and his face creased in anticipation but it wasn't him that fell; it was Janine. Sherlock saw the look of surprise on her face as a small trickle of blood came from the hole that was perfectly placed on her forehead between her eyes and then she slowly crumpled to the floor.

At the same time Mary threw the gun to one side and staggered until she gripped the side of one of the nearby changing cubicles. She let out a loud sob as she slid to her knees with John scrabbling to her side to wrap his arms around her.

Sherlock reacted immediately pulling his phone from his pocket and calling Mycroft. 'We're going to need a clean-up crew.'

'Sherlock, it's the middle of the goddamn night.'

'Yes and you are awake and still working. We're also going to need some kind of psychiatric help for Mary. She broke her control and killed her handler. Please tell me you didn't already know it was Janine!'

The sigh on the line told Sherlock everything he needed to know. 'Ah well I suppose it's for the best. Text me your location and I'll have my men there in ten minutes.'

As he hung up he watched John trying to comfort Mary who looked as though her world had just imploded and in a way it had. Sherlock remembered how horrified he had been at the thought of having his mind tampered with and his treatment had been minimal in comparison to Mary. God only knows what she must have been through over the years. But he knew she was strong, emotionally and mentally and if anyone could recover from this it would be Mary. He also knew he'd have some questions from John eventually but now was not the time.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

The time came two days later when John called round at Baker St carrying Lizzie in a baby carrier strapped to his front.

The first five minutes were spent on small talk with Sherlock making coffees whilst Molly cooed over the baby and helped John to take the carrier off so she could cuddle her. Sherlock had been pleased with Molly's recovery, her wrist was almost completely healed and the bruises on her face and shoulder whilst looking hideous weren't causing her much pain anymore.

As he brought the coffees into the front room he saw the set of John's mouth tighten and he knew he was possibly in for a rough time.

'So, how long had you known? And don't pretend you don't know what I'm talking about. How long did you know that my wife was being controlled by Moriarty's sister?'

Sherlock narrowed his eyes. His natural pedant wanted to say not long as he hadn't known it was Janine but he knew that wasn't the point that John was making here.

'I knew something was wrong from the moment she shot me or have we forgotten that she tried to kill me.'

John sighed deeply. 'You told me she saved your life that she didn't fire to kill. You told me...'

'And yet I nearly died in the ambulance and was pronounced dead at one point in the hospital. You're a doctor John, you know this but you didn't want to believe it. So I told you what you wanted to hear and I bought myself time to work out what she was doing.'

'And what was that? I've tried to ask Mary but she's struggling with her memories at the moment.'

'She was planted. Told to work near you, get to know you to see if I were really alive or dead. Then when I returned she was feeding information about us and Mycroft to Janine.'

'So this was all about you. Never about me. Did she...' Sherlock saw the effort it took John to school his thoughts and stop his emotions from overwhelming him. 'Did she love me at all?'

Sherlock sat down on the coffee table and leant towards his friend who was sitting rigidly, with his hands on his knees, next to Molly on the settee. It felt as though both Molly and the baby were holding their breath and watching the exchange between the two men.

'Yes, absolutely she did. If she hadn't, if I had ever thought that you or Lizzie was at risk I would have acted. That was Janine's downfall; Mary's love for you and your baby. Her brain-washing was already weakening, which was probably why the CIA decided to give her away in the first place. The change in handler further undermined the programming and then her feelings for you...well, you saw the result. So, please, please don't ever think she doesn't love you because she does and it saved both of us. Me that night in Magnussen's office because believe me she could have fired a kill shot and you the other night.'

He could see John physically sag as though a weight had been lifted from him. He took a deep breath and seemed to make a conscious effort to regroup. 'What about the rest? Are there more?'

'Not many, Janine was giving herself the appearance of being more powerful than she actually was. We found out where they were conducting their operations and Mycroft has moved to close it down. Those sleeper agents still in public will be tracked down. I like to think they will be given treatment but I suspect they will just disappear...no doubt into some government program because I don't doubt for one minute that they aren't still working on this.'

There was silence as the three of them contemplated Sherlock's words acknowledging the probable truth in what he had said. Then John slapped his hands on his knees and stood. 'Right, well I'd better be off. My sister and her partner are coming over to help look after Lizzie whilst Mary gets herself sorted. Mycroft has been in touch about ongoing support and counselling and her first session is in a couple of hours so there's a lot to do.'

Sherlock stood and found himself wishing there was more he could do to help his friend. 'Of course, of course.'

John looked him in the eye holding his attention, briefly he narrowed his eyes as though searching for the words and then he gripped Sherlock's shoulder. 'Just...no more secrets Sherlock. I know why you did it...I get that, but...no more...OK'.

Sherlock felt guilt wash over him and nodded his head, hoping it was a promise he could keep.

Molly helped get Lizzie back into the carrier and then John bid them goodbye and turned and left the flat.

Sherlock turned to Molly and knew there was one last secret; one last thing he needed to tell her and as she met his eyes he saw that she realised it too, saw the colour wash out of her face as she sank back down onto the settee. 'Tell me.'

 **Just one more chapter to go and one more confession and maybe...just maybe another twist.**


	23. Chapter 23

**So here we are on the final chapter. Thank you for all of your reviews, flows, favourites and support. I'm so glad you enjoyed it and hopefully you can agree that it wasn't a Mary hate fic but ine which tried to understand, explore and eventually redeem her actions.**

 **Chapter 23**

Sherlock turned to Molly and knew there was one last secret; one last thing he needed to tell her and as she met his eyes he saw that she realised it too, he saw the colour wash out of her face as she sank back down onto the settee. 'Tell me.'

He walked up and down the carpet between the door and the window a couple of times as he searched for the words but then he realised there was no easy way to tell her. He just had to be honest, to lay it all out there and hope that she would find it in herself to forgive him.

'There's something I haven't told you.'

He made the mistake of glancing down but the look on her face made him feel sick with guilt and worry that she wouldn't forgive him. He wanted to sit with her and hold her but he couldn't...not yet.

'You know that the mission I was being sent on was one from which I wouldn't be expected to return.' He saw her nod her head in acknowledgement; her hands grasped so tight her knuckles were white.

'I...before I got on the flight I persuaded one of the guards to get me some drugs; a lot of drugs.'

He suddenly sat down in front of her, as he had done with John, needing her to understand. 'I was leaving, I didn't care if I lived or died and I...I just wanted to escape. I wish I could tell you that I'll never take drugs again but...'

His head fell forward escaping her eyes as he silently acknowledged that maybe...just maybe his drug use was an addiction and he wasn't always in complete control.

Finally he felt her take hold of his hands which had been hanging loose between his knees. Slowly he lifted his head and looked into her face. He could see the various emotions wash over her face.

'Sherlock, you know how I feel about you taking drugs. But it's not so much that it angers me as it terrifies me, even more so now we are together and we are together in this no matter what. I...I don't want to be without you, I can't imagine my life without you in it and I worry that the drugs will take you over if not kill you.' Her voice caught in her throat and he made to speak, wanting to reassure her, but she held up her hand to stop him.

'No, don't. Don't tell me you won't take them again, don't promise that it will never happen. Those aren't promises that you can necessarily keep. Just...just promise me you'll always be honest with me. That you'll tell me when you are feeling stressed or overwhelmed or...well...just plain bored. Promise me that.'

He looked her in the eye and nodded. 'I promise.'

Sherlock felt a wave of exhaustion wash over him. It was over. The secrets and lies wrapped up in this case; this case which had haunted him for almost a year now, longer if you counted his involvement with Moriarty, was finished and he had managed to accomplish the one thing he had most wanted to do; he had saved John and Mary and their family, something he had vowed to do at their wedding. They still had some, not inconsiderable, way to go with Mary's recovery but she was free now, with full control over her life for probably the first time in twenty years.

He felt a hand on his arm and looked up to find his Molly, his amazing beautiful Molly looking at him with such concern and love in her eyes. 'Hey, are you OK?' As she asked he knew that somehow she could sense that his feelings were in turmoil and in that moment he knew just what he needed; her, always her.

They moved in unison as they reached for each other; embracing as their lips met in a slow, sweet kiss which seemed to unlock layer upon layer of emotion. It felt to Sherlock as though his whole body craved her touch. He let his hands explore her, undoing her blouse and feeling the soft warmth of her skin under his eager hands.

Her mouth was warm and open to him and he plunged his tongue into it feeling her own meet with his as need and desperation started to take over. He could her her moans and gasps and knew he was reacting to them, wanting to hear more.

Finally they broke apart, catching their breath, and he saw how dilated her eyes were, how flushed her skin was and how red her lips were from his kisses. He also knew that she was now recovered enough to go further.

Gently he took her hand and led her through to what he now hoped would be their bedroom and not just his. He had slept so much better with her there and since he'd started to break the back of this case his nightmares seemed to finally be dissipating and reducing in number.

He closed the door behind them and undressed himself before he slowly started to undress her, kissing each new area of skin as he revealed it. He didn't want any barriers between them now; no clothes, no secrets, no fears... just them. As she finally stood before him naked he fell to his knees before her feeling humbled and grateful that this caring, compassionate, intelligent woman deigned to be with him, accepting and understanding all his faults and needs. He had never imagined that he would be so fortunate.

He wrapped his arms around her waist and lay his head on her stomach and he felt her fingers thread into his hair. Once again she asked him if he was alright and this time he didn't even feel able to answer he just held her tighter until she slid down to kneel beside him with her hands either side of his face. She looked into his eyes and this time when they kissed it seemed to send sensations throughout his body like a chain reaction. He felt his love for her but more than that he felt his desire rise up once more.

Somehow they made it to the bed and Sherlock lay over her wanting to feel her body underneath his, wanting to show her his love for her in the most physical way possible. He could already feel himself rocking against her and her legs opening for him but he wasn't ready just yet, he wanted her to scream his name, to need him as much as he needed her.

As the kiss broke he moved his lips to her neck and her hands above her head holding them there with one of his hands enjoying how small they felt in his grasp. He kissed down her throat, sucking and nipping at the skin until she was branded by him. He could feel her need for him in the way her hips were bucking up towards him but he felt as though they finally had all the time in the world.

He let his hands and his lips move lower so that he could lavish his attention on her breasts, loving how fast her nipples hardened under his touch and his tongue. Once again her hands were weaving themselves into his hair and he could hear every sound she made, recognising and adjusting his actions to her responses until she was writhing under him.

He knew that he was ready for her. His erection was twitching and pulsing with need but he wanted more for her so down he went, kissing her stomach and her hips hearing her groan of desire as she realised what he was about to do. She was already so wet for him and so close, he could smell her arousal as he spread her legs open and it made his mouth water and his cock start to leak with pre-cum.

As he swept his tongue across her her hips jerked upwards and she let out a loud 'oh God'. Her breathing was faster and he could almost hear her heart beat increasing as he dipped his tongue inside her and then brought it back up to her clit, tasting her and feeling her start to climax.

The room was filled with her cries and he loved the way his name sounded as she called it out and begged him for more.

It was a matter of moments before he was level with her face again and as they kissed he could feel his aching, leaking cock nudging at her entrance. The feeling as he started to push into her was almost indescribable. It was as though they were having sex for the first time and he felt completely overwhelmed with his love for her. He heard himself repeating it over and over as he started to thrust inside her.

He could feel her hands on his backside pulling him in further and urging him on as she told him she loved him too.

They kissed once more, a deep passionate clash of mouths and tongues and he could hear her moans vibrating through him matching the noises he himself was making. Then he felt it, the clench of her muscles as they started to convulse around his cock and he was lost. He felt his mind started to white out, his body taking over as he thrust into her as hard as he could his seed leaving him in exhilarating pulses that had him crying out in pure ecstasy. This was better than any case, than any drug he had ever taken. He knew in that moment that he had a new addiction and this was one he never wanted to give up.

Finally they collapsed, still holding onto each other, neither one wanting to break the connection and neither needing to. Sherlock didn't care if they spent the rest of the week in bed, for once work held no appeal, he just wanted to concentrate on Molly and his love for her.

It wasn't that much later that they lay together talking and kissing that he managed to extract a promise from her to move in. He knew it was too soon to raise but there was no doubt in his mind that they'd be married within the year and he even contemplated how fast he could get her pregnant. For the first time in his life he didn't just want it all but he felt as though he had every chance of achieving it and it made him happier than he had ever been.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

 _At some point she knew she was going to have to deal with the death of her sister but now was hardly the time. She felt angry and disappointed not to mention frustrated. Everything they had worked for had almost been ruined for a second time. Well she'd always known her brother was too flamboyant and unstable and that her sister was too greedy and impulsive._

 _She should be feeling sad at their loss but instead she just felt a deep sense of disgust at their failure. If she were honest she had always known that it would fall on her shoulders. She had always been the most patient and the most intelligent. At least there were no more siblings to get in the way of her plan. And she had a plan, she always had a plan. Jim had been under the illusion that it was his strategy but she'd just played him. He'd been just like any other man, puffed up with his own ego and sense of importance. So easy!_

 _The buzzer sounded on her desk and she schooled her features before she rose and smoothed down her skirt. She moved around the desk and opened the door to his inner sanctum...just another man. Yes a clever one, almost clever enough to match her...but not quite._

 _'Ah, there you are Anthea. Could you bring me the Simmonds files and my morning tea? Maybe you could also find a couple of biscuits as well.'_

 _She smiled and inclined her head. 'Of course Mr Holmes.' Anthea left the room and her smile turned much more wicked. It was only a matter of time now before she would have him right where she needed him and then...then she would control it all!_

 **And there we leave it, with a final little twist. I have no plans to write Anthea's plan or its outcome so if anyone else ever fancies picking it up you are more than welcome. xxx**


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